


doing right or am i doing time?

by imdeansgirl



Series: my soul and yours are the same [2]
Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crossdressing, Drag Queens, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-03 10:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11530119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdeansgirl/pseuds/imdeansgirl
Summary: One is a drag queen from Seattle; the other is a football player and a preacher's son from Dallas. They're soulmates. What could possibly go wrong? (A lot. The answer is a lot.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> soooo a while back i wrote a larkle soulmate au with every intention of turning it into a series and, well, here is another soulmate au! you do _not_ have to read [the thought of you](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7696912) to read this (although i like it u don't have to) bc although they are the same characters and the same trope (soulmates), they are completely different universes/stories/ideas. which is really what this series is about: a bunch of different soulmate aus tied together by nothing other than the fact that they are soulmate aus. anyway this one is a lot longer than the thought of you, it is not a 5x fic, it tells the story from both perspectives (the breaks = pov switches) and it is a lot angstier. this fic contains drag queens & drag kings, some internalized/briefly externalized homophobia, and, although it is never explicitly stated bc in my mind he has not come to terms with it, i do write farkle as functionally mentally ill and with a HUGE fear of abandonment. let's get this dumbass to a therapist lmao. also catch me with those rupaul's drag race and gmw references. anyway uhhh have fun.

“Marriage is pure. It is a relationship between one man and one woman who share one mark. Let us pray, ladies and gentlemen, for those who take God for granted when they choose to deviate from His great plan and marry someone whose mark is different than their own.”

Another day, another sermon about the sanctity of the soulmate bond.

Lucas squirms uncomfortably in his seat, scratching at his hip. His mark has been itching recently, ever since his eighteenth birthday. That was generally around the time when you were supposed to meet your soulmate, sure, but there is no reason for it to itch. His mom frowns at him, worried. He just smiles.

Most people get lucky, you know. Their soulmates are their next door neighbors, or their butchers, or their best friends. Not Lucas, though - he doesn't remember the last time he was ever that lucky. He's fairly certain he's checked every person in Dallas at the very least, and possibly every tourist who comes through.

As he thinks of his soulmate, his eyes casually drift to Riley. He can't see her face, just the back of her head, beautiful brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She's sitting with her new boyfriend, Charlie, with his arm around her shoulders, her hand reaching up absently to touch his. If it were she and Lucas, his mom would hit him with a program and whisper something along the lines of “we're in church.” But he knows he wouldn't care, and he's sure Charlie and Riley don't either. 

He looks back at the time they had together before - well, before his parents - fondly, but painfully. The little crown on her shoulder. The rainbow-colored moon on his hip. When they found out, they were devastated. Her parents wouldn't mind, but his… he could never see Riley again. Even if he loved her more than life itself.

(Charlie wore a tank top on his first day of school. You could see a little crown on his shoulder. He and Riley began to date almost immediately.)

“While we pray for the sinners among us, let us lucky ones give thanks for our special bonds in our life.” His father makes sure to look at Lucas and his mom before continuing his sermon.

His hip itches. It itches, itches, itches.

* * *

Sweat. Sweaty, sticky skin on sticky skin, clothes rubbing against each other. No names, no faces, just movement. Everyone as one. The music floods him and everyone, the beat replacing that of their hearts. Just as the music reaches an apex, he feels a gentle tug on his hand, a whisper he can't quite make out, and he goes.

“Jesus, you got really fucked up tonight.” He just smiles, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He is sat down on what feels like a toilet and a hand is pressed to his brow. “Babe, get me a wet paper towel?”

He hears a displeased noise and then the click of heels as someone walks away. Running water, heels again. Something wet and grossly textured is pressed against his forehead and he blinks open his eyes.

Maya, her face directly above his, rolls her eyes. “Ah, he joins the living. Lovely.”

She shuffles over and Smackle is behind her, frowning in worry and taking out her hair from a bun. “Hey, you okay?” she asks.

For a moment, nothing really registers besides his surroundings. Pink, closed in walls, a hand bar next to him, graffiti everywhere. He seems to be in the handicapped stall in a girl's bathroom. Then he asks, “D’I smudge my makeup?”

Smackle frowns harder and Maya barks a laugh, sharp and boisterous. “Atta boy,” she says, then she shakes her head. “You don't even have makeup on. We couldn't sneak any out of the house tonight, remember?” To Smackle, she says, “He is completely wasted.”

Farkle frowns. “He can hear you. He is tired.”

“ _He_ drank. A lot.”

“I told you not to get him that fake I.D.”

“Whoa, alright, first of all - he asked. How am I supposed to deny my best friend the one rebellious thing he's ever wanted to do? Especially when _I'm_ supposed to be the bad influence!”

“He's my best friend too, and I am the good influence and I get veto.”

“He's been my best friend longer so I get more influence power and you get no veto.”

“Like you wear the pants in our relationship.”

“Hey, right now, we're both wearing pants!”

A door screeches open. Maya yells, “Go find somewhere else to fuck; there's already a threesome going on in here and it's about to get ugly!” A door screeches shut.

“Nice one.”

“Thank you.”

And with that, in the handicapped stall in the girl’s bathroom of the nightclub Cinch, in the middle of his two lesbian best friends’ weird fight-flirting, Farkle vomits. A lot.

* * *

After mass, Lucas hangs by his mother, who talks to the other parishioners. “Your husband is so good at what he does,” they say. “We love coming to mass for his sermons.”

His mom says something in response - or, more accurately, she says nothing. She speaks sometimes, but more often than not, Lucas feels like she's never actually saying anything.

Lucas stares off into space, by where Riley and Charlie speak animatedly with each other and another girl from their class - Darby, he thinks. She's saying something, probably about how cute they are, and Charlie is nodding and smiling, and Riley is, too. But there's a clench in her jaw, the kind that lets Lucas know she's thinking about something else entirely. Maybe it's about New York - she's always wanted to go. Does Charlie expect her to settle in Dallas, become a bar-owner’s wife and watch the kids? Will she ever get to write the story dying to escape her?

There's a clap on his shoulder and Lucas startles. “Hey, man, remind me to thank your dad for scheduling his sermons at six in the damn morning?”

Lucas chuckles, half-heartedly. “Will do,” he assures.

Zay frowns. “You okay?” he asks.

Lucas stutters, attempting to cover up his forlorn expression, but he makes the mistake of glancing at Riley, and his best friend is ridiculously perceptive. “You can't keep torturing yourself, man,” Zay says, shaking his head. “You guys were great, but your dad would have killed you.”

Lucas sighs, sad and forlorn. “I know. He would have disowned me. But…” The longer he looks at Riley, the longer he imagines kissing her soft pink lips and holding her hand, the more he thinks it might have been worth it.

He should have known, though, that by now, Zay can read his thoughts and be his voice of reason. “No, no, no,” he says, shaking his head. “We've been over this. You should not have fought for her, even if you loved her.” He raises his eyebrows. “May I list the reasons why?”

“You may.”

Zay holds up his hands, counting down the reasons. “One, your parents would have disowned you, and as much as you resent your dad, you could never leave your mom like that.”

That is a fair point. Lucas glances over at his mom, who has wandered away to some more parishioners, talking to them about a potluck or something. She watched after him when he was sick, held his hand when he was scared, helped him dress for dates. Maybe she was a little bit old-fashioned, but it was the heart that counted. Right?

“Two, you really buy into this soulmate nonsense. If you had settled with Riley, married her and stayed in Dallas, you would have always wondered and I am too good of a friend to let you do that.”

Zay, while infuriating, is usually right. Even though he hates the rules sometimes, he still wants to try and find his soulmate. Statistics say that, once you're past the age of eighteen, the likelihood of finding your soulmate decreases dramatically, because if you have yet to meet your soulmate, they are probably in another city, state, or country.But still, he would like to try.

Another finger is down as Zay goes through the list. “Three, you are way more than some Podunk, Texas kid. You need to stay connected so your parents fund your ticket out.”

That makes Lucas laugh. “Fuck off,” he mutters, shoving Zay by the shoulder. He glances down and frowns. “Zay, your - “ He trails off, motions to his wrist.

Zay glances down and frowns. “Oh, damn. About time to reapply. Can I use the pastor’s bathroom?”

“Don't get caught,” Lucas advises. Zay nods and runs off, his hand over his wrist.

It's hard for a lot of people in the soulmate world; not just on those who decide to marry outside of the mark. Zay, for example, was born without a mark at all. As a kid, he told Lucas, he was open about this and made fun of for it. Teachers, parents, and other students all made comments about it all the time. So, when he moved from Louisiana to Dallas, he began to draw it on. His parents support him in his decision, as it makes it safer for him and easier on him, and as soon as possible he wants to get the mark tattooed. It's a simple drawing, really, one he can do a few times a day: a little black star on his wrist. It could match anyone, but so far it hasn't. When it gets hot out, he has to reapply a few times a day, today especially being one of them.

He thinks about his own mark again, and he hopes that his soulmate is out there somewhere, safe and thinking about him.

* * *

It is far too early in the morning, he thinks, to be this drunk. Or perhaps it is far too late in the evening to be staggering up the stairs of an apartment building leaning on the shoulders of his best friends.

The girls grunt as they struggle to pull him up with them; Smackle squeaks with every misstep and Maya frequently curses the elevator for not being in working order. “Just one more floor,” she mutters, but no one is sure if it's to Farkle, Smackle, or herself.

Eventually they do make it up to their destination and Maya struggles to balance half of Farkle’s weight and find the key in her handbag. Luckily, and seemingly magically, the door opens.

Shawn glances at each of them and frowns. “I told you not to get him that fake I.D.”, he says.

Smackle nods, grateful for another voice of reason. “That's what _I_ said,” she agrees. He smiles at her, then moves to let the three-headed monster in through the doorway.

“Couldn't sleep again?” Maya asks as she and her girlfriend lead Farkle to the couch.

From where he's closing the door, Shawn shakes his head. “No. I was up working on the website and worrying.”

Maya shakes her head. “We’re adults, we can handle ourselves.”

“Look, Maya, you know I have two rules - ”

“I can only drink in the house and I have to keep you updated,” she drones. “I know. And I followed both tonight, to the letter.”

She looks to Smackle for help, who shrugs. “She did,” she agrees. “She may have let Farkle made some stupid decisions, but she didn't drink and she texted you all night.”

Shawn raises an eyebrow, but admits, “Yes, well, I may have misplaced my phone - ”

“Aha!”

“ - but regardless, good job tonight.” Shawn glances at Farkle, now curled up in a ball on his couch. “Now to the elephant in the room.”

Farkle groans. “I have feelings too,” he says, indignantly. Maya shakes her head and lifts her arms, as if to say, ‘I don't know what happened.’

There's a _click_ and a few shuffling noises, and suddenly, Katy is standing next to Shawn, yawning and scratching her unruly bedhead. “ _4 AM,_ ” she says, the bite behind the words muffled mostly by her sleepiness. Then she points to Farkle. “Is he okay?”

“Trashed, mostly,” Smackle says. Maya elbows her and she squawks indignantly. “What? It's true!”

“Maya, you let him drink?” Katy yelps. Then she blesses herself. “If Stuart calls me about this…”

“Mom, Farkle has been sneaking out and coming here for the past twelve years,” Maya snaps. “When has Stuart Minkus ever called you, worried about Farkle?”

Katy doesn't answer. She just frowns.

Maya shakes herself of her anger over her best friend’s father and turns to Smackle. “Are you staying over?”

Smackle opens her mouth, probably to protest that her parents aren't home and she can really just go, but Katy interrupts. “Nonsense, of course she is. It is far too late at night for her to be going anywhere. But nowhere near your room, young lady. Go pull out your cot so Farkle can sleep in your room, and after we've moved him I will make up the pull out for Isadora.”

Both Maya and Smackle smile warmly before walking away, down the hall towards Maya’s room. Katy and Shawn come closer to the couch, Katy sitting on the arm by Farkle’s head and shaking him by the shoulder. Shawn stands by her, smiling gently. “Farkle?” Katy coaxes. “Wake up, honey.”

He looks up to see them both. Katy really looks wrecked with sleep; her hair, in two pigtails, is messy, and the bags under her eyes are dramatic. Shawn has a recent coffee stain on his shirt, probably from trying to ease the annoyance of insomnia, and his boxer shorts are ratty and old. On her collarbone there is a mark of an open book, and on his thigh there are three dramatic claw marks. He looks at them and he sees the parents he wishes he had - the mom who does her best, the dad who takes an interest. And he sees love. He gently presses a hand to his hip and thinks that, perhaps, soulmate does not always mean better.

Impulsively and irrationally, he sits up and flings his arms around them. “Thanks,” he whispers softly. They hug him back, without another word.

* * *

Lucas waits for Zay to reappear, then they take off to play football for as long as possible. As Zay reminds him constantly, they're going to need it to get to college - the life of a preacher is not exactly a lucrative one, and Zay’s parents, while supportive and caring, aren't rolling in money. So they practice.

Before what Lucas calls “The Breakup” and Zay calls “Rucas Gate,” they were much more relaxed about it. It was, in order of priority: Riley, Zay, school, football, then church. But since The Breakup, Lucas and Zay have somehow agreed to put three things on the same level: football, school, Church. They do everything together now, so there's no need to include each other on this list, and Riley has obviously dropped from their lives - well. Sort of. She says hi in the hallways, smiles broadly, texts occasionally. It's Lucas that's less enthusiastic about a casual friendship. He's never done a big, bad breakup before, so he's not all that sure on the rules. But what he is sure of is that seeing Riley hurts. So it is far easier to cut her out altogether.

So football. Part one of three of the fundamentals of Lucas and Zay.

Zay throws the ball in a spiral, and Lucas reaches to catch it but allows it to fall to the ground gracelessly. Zay frowns. “You okay, man? You seem to be in your head.”

Lucas shrugs and grabs the ball. “Just thinking, I guess,” he says before throwing it back.

Zay catches it easily and frowns harder, his eyebrows inching together. “You better be thinking about college and not Miss Smiley,” he says accusingly.

He meant what he said earlier - Zay can read his thoughts. “I'm fine,” he insists.

Unfortunately, Zay clearly does not buy this. Fortunately, however, he lets it drop. “So, get any acceptance letters yet?” he asks. Lucas breathes a sigh of relief.

<hr>

Farkle sleeps fitfully, on and off for almost six hours. He wakes at 9:34 with a pounding hangover and a note on the coffee table. It reads:

_Farkle,_

_Shawn went to a meeting, Maya and Smackle went for a walk, and I had to make a trip to the grocery store. Hope I'm there when you wake up, but what happens happens. There's aspirin in the cabinet above the toaster. Lots of love!_

_Katy_

With a sigh and a distinct lack of energy to get up off of the couch, he reaches for the remote resting in the coffee table and clicks the TV on, just to fill the silence. However, he soon recognizes that this is a bad idea as it is turned all the way up to full volume (Maya is slowly destroying her hearing, he makes a mental note to tell her that later), but he turns it down to five decibels and sighs. It's the news, but he has no energy to change it, so he lets it roll.

Whatever channel he's watching is clearly stuck in the 1990’s; they have terrible graphics and overly chipper anchors. Their first segment is a fluff piece on the zoo’s latest animals, and the girl reporting must make at least fifty puns about lion cubs by the time it's over. The second segment is about a house fire in downtown Seattle, near the club scene. No one was hurt, but the girl reporting still looks near tears. Farkle decides she is rather over dramatic and moves on.

The screen goes black, then, silent for a moment before white word art pops up: “Do you know where your child is?” The screen cuts to a male reporter, standing in front of a green screen and reporting on missing children. He lists their names, ages, descriptions, and places where they were last seen. The man _really_ stresses the idea that parents should know where their children are. And at first Farkle is fine, fine, fine, agreeing even - and then the bad thoughts begin to creep in, beginning rather boldly with this one:

_Jennifer and Stuart Minkus never know where their child is, and never really seem to give a shit, do they?_

Luckily, the door clicks open at that exact moment. “Hey, champ! You awake?”

Farkle blesses whoever it is looking out for him, and then groans dramatically. “Yes,” he sighs. “If you count being dead as being awake.”

Katy snickers from where she's putting away groceries. “Enjoying your first hangover, huh?” she asks. Farkle just shrugs. “Did you grab anything to eat yet?”

He honestly totally forgot until this moment. “No,” he says. “But then again, I pretty much just woke up.”

“Well then allow me to cook up the greasiest grilled cheese you've ever had.”

Immediately his mouth waters. “You're a saint,” he murmurs. Katy just laughs.

His mom is no Katy. Katy is strength, poise, an overabundance of love. She is the epitome of a woman to him. He thinks, if he ever had to reinvent himself, Katy would be his go-to name. _For the woman I owe my life to,_ he thinks. She did raise him, basically. He would be proud to share her name.


	2. Chapter 2

The people are awful. The air is hot and sticky. He should have went on some sort of scouting mission before coming down here, he thinks. Sent a friend ahead to check the surrounding area and let him know if he was totally batshit bonkers for moving down here on almost a total whim. (The answer, he figures, is probably yes.) He's fairly certain there were other schools he could have gone to - closer to home, perhaps, where the weather was rainy and life was slower and people were kinder.

But then again - the whole point of moving out here was to get away from home, right? Or… maybe not his home. The city is and forever will be his favorite place in the world, his home. He could have stayed there forever. What he wanted to get away from was his house.

The girl in front of him leans over the counter as far as she possibly can and snaps her fingers next to his ear, as if that will make him work any faster. “Hel _lo_? I would like my coffee in this lifetime, please.”

Farkle grinds his teeth behind a fake smile. “Almost done,” he promises. She just sticks her nose up even farther than it already was and he goes back to preparing her coffee.

In less time than it took for her to snap her fingers at him, her order is done and he sends her on her way. (She doesn't tip. He isn't surprised.) His phone dings from the counter.

**From Maya Papaya:**

**pick up some milk on the way home we want to make milkshakes with alcohol also we need more makeup wipes**

He doesn’t bother replying, but makes a mental note to stop by a Target before he returns to the apartment. No, before he returns home. Alameda may be no Seattle, but hey - today, it's home.

* * *

Zay sighs soundly as he throws himself down on his brand new bed, covered in brand new sheets with brand new pillows. “Dorm sweet dorm,” he says, contentedly.

Lucas nods in agreement as he unzips his suitcase. “There was a time I thought we'd never make it.” He glances over to the other bed to gauge a reaction. Zay says nothing, just raises one eyebrow. Lucas shrugs. “There were times where we didn't have the money, the drive, or the grades. But we made it.”

That makes Zay nod thoughtfully. “Everyone loves a couple of good underdogs.” He stands, reaches under his bed, and pulls out a football. “Want to go practice?”

He almost drops half of his stuff out of his bag. “We just got here!” Lucas yelps, and Zay grins.

“No time like the present,” he reasons. “Besides, we're only getting older.”

Lucas shakes his head, half incredulous and half amazed. “I’'ll pass,” he says. “But thanks.” Zay shrugs, then leaves the room, football in hand.

Then Lucas is left alone, unpacking his bag in the silence. He stops, looks around, and puts his hands on his hips. It almost seems like the room is just big enough for the two of them, a world of their very own carved into Alameda College. No Texas, no church. Just him and Zay. He is surprised to find out just how excited he is by that.

* * *

The next day is the same. Same people, same coffee, same dismantling of all his hope for humanity. Same near-empty tip jar.

He sighs and adds another check to his calendar countdown until graduation. The next three years can't possibly come soon enough.

* * *

The cash register pings, and the lady looks up at them. Her eyes are tired and, after seeing a woman scream for the attention of customer service for about 20 minutes, he doesn't blame her. “Your order will be $20.68,” she says.

Lucas looks down at their trays. Salad, sandwiches, and juice boxes. He frowns and looks up. “Are you sure?” he asks.

The lady flinches, probably gun-shy from her encounter with the woman earlier. But she shakes herself and stands a little taller. “Yep,” she says. “$20.68.”

He sighs and reaches into his wallet, and next to him, Zay sighs and clicks his tongue. “At this rate, we're either going to need to either start eating cheaper or get jobs.” He watches thoughtfully as Lucas puts down $21 and then drops the change into the tip jar. “Both,” he decides. “Definitely both.”

* * *

The next day is similar. Angry, entitled people looking for caffeine and then complaining about price, atmosphere, speed. Anything they can find to possibly to complain about. It makes him want to scream.

His co worker, Trixie, actually does scream. Then she quits, loudly and in front of more than a few customers. She walks out the door with her head held high and her pink lipstick in hand. Farkle envies her; he considers following her. But he has to pay the bills somehow.

When he says this to Smackle, she furrows her brow. “Don't you make enough money off tips?” she asks.

“The tip jar is almost always empty,” he says. “The people here suck. A lot.”

She shakes her head and says, “No, I mean the other tips.” He stares at her blankly. “Night tips?”

“Oh!” He pauses a moment, does the math, and shakes his head. “The job itself is expensive, and it's not like I've made any big bookings or gotten an audition for a bigger club.”

Smackle considers this for a moment. “Maybe you need a manager?” she offers.

He feels his eyes open wide. He's surprised, but definitely willing to listen.

* * *

The next week begins with the job hunt. They don't necessarily need to work together, so they split up. Zay heads downtown to a technology store, and Lucas heads uptown towards a shoe store. The store is absolutely filthy and the owner is a heavy smoker, something Lucas can't stand the smell of. (Plus, he knows his parents would skin him alive if he voluntarily spent time around a human being who even owned cigarettes.) He then moves on to a fast food restaurant, where the manager is nice but seems none too impressed with him. He overheard another aspiring employee on the way out gossiping over the phone about the owner having hired his nephew for the job. He doesn't know if it's true, but he counts himself out for the job anyway.

He then moves on to a florist; the owner is an older man, probably in his late forties to early fifties. His hair is thinning, his apron is stained, and he leers at Lucas over the counter. He decides he does not want a job there.

He's almost out of options. He's walking down the street, sullen, grasping onto a hope that maybe he'll see something at random when that's exactly what happened. He looks to his right and sees it: _Mom and Pop’s Coffee Shop_. It seems as if it's calling him. He looks around and heads towards the help wanted sign hanging in the door.

He pushes the door open and it dings. That's when he sees the boy behind the counter.

* * *

_Ding, ding._

It's been a long day. The pushy lady who didn't have time to wait for her coffee was back again today, along with twenty or so other customers who were equally as entitled and intolerable. Not to mention every day since Trixie quit has only gotten harder, considering they're now understaffed and he's handling almost all of his shifts by himself. So when he closes up and then about five minutes later the door dings open, he has the right to be a little annoyed.

“We're _closed,_ ” he barks, scrubbing at the counter with more force than probably necessary. He knows he’s being an asshole, but he can only serve so many teenage girls specialized frappucinos before he gets annoyed.

The nuisance clears their throat. “Um,” they stutter, “I'm here about the job opening?”

Farkle looks up.

* * *

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Two boys in an empty coffee shop, hazel eyes on blue, just a few feet apart. Silent.

Then the boy across from him gathers himself, shakes his head and coughs. “Not much I can do since we closed about ten minutes ago,” he says, returning to his excessive counter scrubbing. “But feel free to come back tomorrow. Or better, the weekend when I'm not working.”

Lucas frowns. “I won't take up much time,” he promises. “I just want to apply and leave. I'll wait for whoever it is that's doing the interviews to call.”

“That'd be me,” the boy replies, still scrubbing, “as it's my shift partner. But come back on Saturday - you'll be stuck with Billy, they'll give me Yogi, we'll all be happy.”

“I really need the job now though,” Lucas replies. He and Zay were already scraping the bottom of the barrel when it came to lunch and dinner, not to mention the books and school supplies that were making huge dents in his already thin savings. He couldn't wait until Saturday.

“I can tell my manager to steer clear of hiring you at all,” the boy replies, nonplussed.

“But I came all this way. This isn't fair.”

“Listen,” the boy says abruptly, looking up briefly before going back to scrubbing. “I can hear you're not from around here, McDreamy. But this is not _Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt._ Us city slickers do _not_ have to cater to you absolutely unbearable country folk. So why don't you mosey on back to sweet home Alabama and hang out with your chickens, because life isn't fair.”

He can feel his blood pulsing. Rage boils within him, lighting him up, and he can feel himself edging closer and closer to a total explosion. He hasn't gotten properly angry in a long time, but he's getting fairly close now. It’s unclear whether it’s the boy’s attitude that sets him off or the exhaustion from the day, but he can’t take it anymore. He, like a pent up rubber band, needs to snap. He reigns in his anger enough not to react physically, but can't contain his verbal explosion. “Yeah, well maybe while I'm headed back to Alabama I can find you a map to help your head find its way out of your ass.” The boy looks up at that, raising his eyebrows, seemingly impressed. “And while I'm at it, I'll find an instruction manual on how to be polite to other human beings and bring that to you as well.”

With that, he turns on his heel, his hand reaching for the door, his other hand curled in a fist. But then….

“When can you start?”

Lucas stops. Then he turns again, slowly, and looks to the boy still cleaning the counter. “Excuse me?” he says.

The boy doesn't look up, he just continues absently wiping down the counter. But he speaks again. “I asked when you can start,” he says.

Lucas frowns at him. “Monday,” he says slowly. “Any time. I don't have classes that day.”

The boy looks up then and half-smiles. Lucas feels his own mouth urge to move but he doesn't let it. “Farkle,” the boy says suddenly, and Lucas frowns.

“What did you call me?” he asks.

The boy rolls his eyes and drops his half-smile. “That's my name, Farkle. Farkle Minkus.” He sticks out his hand and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Lucas nods and crosses the room, shaking his hand. “Lucas Friar,” he replies. “Pleasure to meet you.”

He can only hope something good comes out of this.

* * *

When Farkle returns home and hangs up his keys, wipes his boots on the floor, and locks the front door of their tiny apartment, only one of his two friends sleeping on the couch stirs. From where she's nestled under Maya’s arm, Smackle pops her head up. “Hey,” she mumbles. “How was work?”

He shrugs. “Found someone to fill the help wanted position,” he says, “the poor southern sap.”

“Mm,” Smackle replies. “Is he nice?”

As he frowns at her in the dark, lit up by the glow of the television and surrounded by a cacophonic combination of Maya’s snores, the traffic outside, and a _Friends_ marathon in the background, he finds that he can only think about hazel eyes and a warm handshake. “Eh. Nothing to write home about,” he replies.

* * *

Lucas returns to his room to find Zay still awake, lit up by his bedside table. “Hey!” his friend says excitedly. “I got a job at a sports shop downtown!”

Grinning, Lucas crosses the room and fist bumps him. “Nice, man.” He then crosses to his own bed and plops down, belatedly kicking off his shoes.

Zay looks at him expectantly. “So? How'd you do?” he asks.

“Got a job at a coffee shop,” he replies.

Immediately, Zay fist pumps and cheers. “Good people, good pay?” he asks after a moment.

Lucas shrugs. “No idea about the pay,” he says, then pauses. _Life isn't fair._ “The guy seemed nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so honestly and i mean sincerely honestly i am trying to come up with ideas for more soulmate aus? like i have plot ideas (trust me, a drag queen is not the most outrageous thing one of them will be. rn im thinking space pirates and ghost hunters. more on that later.) but soulmate aus im running out of. like i've done marks and i've done thought sharing. i'm thinking rn i have left names on bodies, black and white until u meet ur soulmate, first sentence on bodies, and timers. after that it's all ??? so hmu @ my tumblr scisaacs (im too lazy to insert the link rn) if u have any ideas.


	3. Chapter 3

An optimist would say that, after that rocky first meeting, things would begin to get better between the two coworkers.

Unfortunately for Lucas, Farkle is no optimist.

It’s been two weeks of working at Mom and Pop’s, and Lucas has learned a few things. The first being that Farkle is an absolute monster during the morning shift.

He often comes in, guns ablazing, headphones in with the music at its highest volume and bags under his eyes. It gets worse if Lucas says something about it, and even _worse_ if he complains about it. So now, most days, when it’s 7:15 AM and Farkle, fifteen minutes late, comes in in a huff, he bites his tongue. No “are you okay?” or “I don’t know who pissed in your cereal this morning, but get over yourself” (not that he would ever actually say that out loud, for fear of messing up his working relationship, but he feels like saying it a lot) from him, no sir. He just deals with the customers while Farkle broods and works the cappuccino machine. His well-sculpted eyebrows are furrowed inwards and his mouth is a set line; he looks like a sad and tragically beautiful Greek statue. Eventually, about forty-five minutes in, he becomes… less terrible. That’s not saying he becomes nice. He just stops baring his teeth and glaring, and instead moves on to making joking and sarcastic remarks and rolling his eyes at everything Lucas has to say.

Speaking of, the second thing he’s learned is that Farkle has a _lot_ to say. Sometimes it’s funny, usually it’s sarcastic. He doesn’t stop, really, and he doesn’t seem to even want to stop. He just says what he’s thinking, without filters, and then just slightly raises his eyebrows if you have something to say about it. Lucas usually doesn’t have anything to say, either because he’s too shocked or too annoyed (or, a third and less frequent option, because he’s trying not to laugh, but he would never say so out loud). But sometimes customers do, and there are some who really like him and think he’s funny, and some who they never see again.

(When Lucas mentions this during an afternoon shift, Farkle shrugs. “Less work for me, to be honest,” he says, and goes about mopping the floor. Lucas just blinks.)

For instance, one time he was making coffee for a lovely old couple named Cec and Bert. Cec and Bert ordered the same thing - two teas with sugar. Lucas hopped to making their order and Farkle raised his eyebrows. “Of all the cultural stereotypes, _that’s_ the one I see today?” he said.

Cec and Bert just looked at each other, seemingly surprised. “We’re not British,” said Cec. “We’re Australian.”

Farkle scoffed and, even though Lucas sent out a quick prayer that he wouldn’t say whatever it was he was going to say next, opened his mouth to speak. “I’m going to tell you a little secret,” he said. “ _No_ body can tell the difference and, quite frankly, _no_ body cares.”

Cec huffed, offended. Bert laughed.

The next time they saw them, Bert came in and ordered while Cec stood haughtily outside.

The last, and possibly most important thing he has learned, is that Farkle can be a tad… overdramatic.

The first time he realized it, he was sitting in the breakroom. Farkle was just outside the door, on the phone as far as he could tell. He was minding his own business, texting Zay, and all of the sudden -

“Oh my God, Maya, the shop is _literally_ on fire!”

So, naturally, Lucas lept for the fire extinguisher. It was only when he jumped out into the cafe with his fire extinguisher pointed at Farkle (who looked half-freaked out and half-annoyed, but still managed to carry on with his phone conversation) that he realized Farkle was talking about the sticky California heat and not a real fire.

Working with Farkle is… an adventure.

* * *

Farkle can not _stand_ his new coworker.

First and foremost, he is ridiculously oblivious. He’s not getting all the blaringly obvious _I don’t want to be your friend_ vibes Farkle is sending his way. He likes to make small talk, chatting with Farkle when it is quite clear he did not come to make friends.

“How are you?” “Are you okay?” “Did you really have to say that to a customer?”

Endlessly annoying.

Not to mention he doesn’t seem to notice when customers are hitting on him, which happens quite often. Like, all the time. People of all genders, old people, young people. It’s ridiculous. He can see it, he supposes, because Lucas is conventionally handsome. But Lucas seems to have _no idea,_ and Farkle is beginning to get tired of it.

The other day a person came in and said to him, “You know, you’re really pretty.” And Lucas just smiled and thanked them and walked away. He got their coffee and sent them away. Farkle and the customer were equally bewildered.

And he actually can not escape him. Work, home, his other job, his classes. He sees him all the time at the shop, of course. Then he saw someone at a show the other day that looked like him, and then a makeup model. And the worst of it is at home.

It all starts when he leaves his wallet at home and has no way to catch a bus to school. So he calls Smackle and begs her to drop it off at the cafe. Of course, it’s just his luck: she sends Maya in her place. Maya enters, wallet in hand, and at first Farkle thinks he’s okay because Lucas is in the breakroom. He takes it, thanks her, and urges her to leave before the “lunch rush.” (It was 11 AM; the lunch rush was not for another two hours.) And she’s so close to leaving and then…

The door to the break room opened and Lucas emerges. He smiles at Maya. “Howdy, ma’am,” he says. “Can we get you anything today?”

She sucks her lips in, and then grins. “Nope, I think I have everything I need,” she replies. And then she turns and leaves.

Hours later, after class, he comes home and she chucks a pillow at his head. “Ow,” he says flatly, catching it.

“ _Why_ didn’t you tell me your dream hillbilly works with you?!”

She’s sitting on the couch, potato chips in her lap and _Never Say Never,_ the Justin Bieber movie, playing on TV. Smackle is mysteriously missing, probably either at classes or working. He suspects that her absence is the sole reason for the six pack sitting by Maya’s feet.

He rolls his eyes. “He’s not my dream hillbilly,” he notes. “And maybe you would know of his existence if you visited me at work sometimes.”

He should have known that she would choose to ignore the last part; she simply says, “‘Not my dream hillbilly’ my _ass._ You’re all for that southern gentleman, hero complex bullshit. You want someone to save your poor, gay soul.”

Farkle rolls his eyes and takes his jacket off, putting it on the rack. “I don’t have a type,” he says. “I have no type.”

She honks like a buzzer. “Wrong!” she says. “You’re wrong, but that’s okay. It’s _okay_ to be in denial, there’s a twelve step program for that.” She examines him for a moment and then looks back to the TV. “You know, for the amount you complain about him, I never thought he would be the love of your life.”

He turns to walk down the hall to his room. “You know, for a king, you’re really a drama _queen,_ ” he mutters. She throws another pillow at him.

So, all in all, working with Lucas is extremely, ridiculously frustrating.

* * *

It’s the three and a half week anniversary of their acquaintanceship when all things come to a head. It’s 7:45 AM, and Lucas is beginning to get… well, he wouldn’t say worried. Because he doesn’t really ‘worry’ about Farkle, per se. But he does want to track down his blonde friend and ask if he’s okay.

Okay, so maybe he’s a little worried.

He’s begun texting Zay (who is in the middle of his philosophy class, and he definitely shouldn’t be texting during it but he’s just a great friend) about his grandiose plan to find the blonde girl and question ber for Farkle’s whereabouts when the shop door bangs open, and Farkle arrives. He looks more frantic and tired than Lucas has ever seen him. His headphones are still on and turned all the way up, so he stalks past the bewildered customers and Lucas and heads straight to a coffee machine.

The only people there at the moment are an old lady with a walker and a girl on her way to a class, so it isn’t hard to wait until they’ve cleared out, put the closed sign on the door, and then turn on Farkle. His headphones are out and he’s halfway out of his brooding stage but Lucas can’t deal with it anymore. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells.

Farkle turns, slowly, and raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“I get that you’ve been here longer than I have, and that you don’t really care about me as a person. I don’t agree, but I understand that that’s how you feel.” Farkle blinks, looking a little bewildered. “But I don’t think that you should feel entitled enough to show up _forty-five_ minutes late to your workplace, especially when you have a shift partner that actually tries to give a shit about you from time to time. So the next time you’re going to be an asshole and make me think you’re dead in a ditch, give me a call to let me know that I can just be pissed off when you show up late instead of pissed off and relieved.”

The atmosphere shifts. It is deadly silent, so much so that you could hear a pin drop. Then Farkle takes a deep breath and… smiles. It’s as if the world was dark and suddenly his smile flipped on the light. It’s daunting. Lucas is confused.

“You know, Lucas,” he says, “the reason I gave you the job in the first place is because you went off on me the first time we met.” He huffs a laugh. “Not a lot of people know when to tell me to shut up, but you seemed to be able to hold your own. And I like that about you.”

Is this the same Farkle he’s seen almost every day for the past three and a half weeks?

“So I’m sorry if I seem like an asshole half the time, or frustrate you. But I’m in a really rough place right now, and last night my life got a whole lot fucking crazier. Not that it really excuses my attitude. Hopefully, though, you’ll spare me some southern generosity and forgive me from time to time.” He smirks. “Excusing, of course, all the times you yell at me.”

With that, he goes back to what he was doing. And Lucas is more confused than ever.

* * *

Things suddenly begin to change after that. It’s as if, all the sudden, he remembers why he liked Lucas’s spunky attitude in the first place. So he decides to befriend him.

Life runs much more smoothly after that. They work better, communicate better, and act better. Sure, Farkle is still blunt and grouchy and shows up late to work, and Lucas is still oblivious and overly friendly and frustratingly handsome. But like all great friendships, they choose to overlook each other’s enormous flaws and instead focus on what they like about each other.

For instance, Farkle likes that Lucas is, although annoyingly sugarcoated, a ticking time bomb. He may look like a southern gentleman and, in most ways, he is one. But in other ways, he only plays one; there’s venom somewhere in there, and Farkle lives for it when it comes out. He also likes that Lucas is knowledgeable about mostly everything. He can talk about books, he can talk about television, he can talk about art. If there is one thing that life has taught him, it is that being well-rounded is key to being a human being worth talking to. Farkle can also appreciate that Lucas is frustratingly handsome.

And as for what Lucas sees in him, well… he supposes that is a mystery Farkle will never solve.

Soon enough, Lucas and Farkle are proper friends. They even have conversations, something Farkle typically loathes with anyone who does not live in his apartment. (Or sometimes with Yogi, when they’re changing shifts.)

He learns that Lucas is not only a Seattle Seahawks fan (which, although a Seattle native, Farkle knows astonishingly little about, so Lucas quickly drops the subject), but also a big fan of the _Star Wars_ series. Lucas is shocked when he discovers that Farkle has only ever seen one of the films and dared to fall asleep while watching.

“Which one was it?” he asks as Farkle wipes down the counter and he mops the floor. “Because if you’ve seen the wrong one it can make it all just really sad.”

Farkle shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “I know it was one with Ewan McGregor, but that’s only because I’m obsessed with _Moulin Rouge._ ”

Lucas squints at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius?” he asks. “How nerdy are you if you’ve never seen _Star Wars_ and, when you do watch it, you start with the worst ones?”

“First of all, genius, yes; nerd, no,” Farkle replies. “I may be socially awkward and have a ridiculously high IQ, but I never sat down and watched six or so movies made before I was even born.” He hears Lucas mutter something about being an amateur and having a movie marathon with him, but the thought of watching movies with Lucas alone and in the dark make him nervous for some reason, so he pretends he didn’t hear him and lets the conversation drop.

Becoming friends with Lucas is surprisingly easy, considering their differences. Lucas likes the Seahawks and Farkle likes Sephora; Lucas is a fan of the Cubs and Farkle is a fan of A Chorus Line. But somehow, they make it work for them. Which is why, when Maya begins hanging around, he is afraid of a change in dynamic.

Apparently, she’s beginning her long Thanksgiving break. However, Smackle doesn’t get out for another week. Their plans were to go back to Seattle together, so… “I figured why not hang around with you and dreamboy?”

Farkle shushes her, then glances over his shoulder. Lucas is distracted with the customer, so he turns back to her. “First of all, I don’t like him like that,” he says. “He’s just a nice guy that -”

“That you want to have sex with?” she supplies.

He rolls his eyes. “That I want to be _friends_ with,” he says. “I can have guy friends and not lust after them, Maya.” She raises her eyebrows. “I can!” he insists. “Do you want to have sex with every woman you work with or are friends with?”

She thinks about this for a moment, and then counters. “I’m in a healthy relationship and don’t have issues with commitment. _And_ most of the women I see at shows are either straight or _so_ not my type, so I really don’t have a place to stray to.”

Farkle throws up his hands, exasperated. “Second of all, I don’t even know if he’s gay, Maya. I haven’t asked him because he’s _just a friend._ ”

And he should’ve known better than to say he hadn’t asked, because she narrows her eyes and he can see the wheels in her head begin to turn. “Well, we’ll see,” she says nonchalantly, and then nods over his shoulder. “Here comes Captain Huckleberry McDreamy.”

Farkle sighs and turns to see Lucas heading towards them, no customer insight. He smiles at Maya and says, “Hey, have I seen you before?”

“Maybe in your dreams, but don’t be fresh, I have a girlfriend.” Farkle watches Lucas’s face and is happily surprised to see that he doesn’t flinch at the mention of Maya having a girlfriend. She sticks out her hand and says, “Maya Hart, pleased to meet you.”

Lucas shakes it and smiles. “Lucas Friar,” he replies. “You’re Farkle’s friend?”

Maya nods and smiles. “Sure am. And I hear you are too; heard a lot about you.”

Farkle internally groans and curses her. She’ll see repercussions the next time she wants Farkle to help her pick out an outfit for a show. Lucas looks sideways at him and smirks. “All good things, I hope.”

For a moment, Maya pauses and looks between the two of them, and then she smiles almost devilishly. “Decidedly so,” she replies.

Farkle is going to get hell for introducing these two.

* * *

After only five days of knowing her, Lucas decides that Maya is hilarious.

She comes in with Farkle at the beginning of their shift, sticks around until it’s over, and then leaves with him. Sometimes she’ll buy a coffee, but mostly she makes hilarious commentary, usually at the expense of Farkle, which Lucas can get behind. Lucas likes Farkle, he really does. However, Lucas also likes seeing Farkle get flustered, with pink tinting his cheeks and ears and his eyes getting wonderfully wide, which is exactly what happens when Maya picks on him. It’s fun, especially when he thinks back to a month ago when he thought of Farkle as an unstoppable, grumpy force of nature.

She also talks about other stuff, like what she thinks the life story is of each customer, or what her girlfriend is doing at the moment. She really loves her girlfriend, and she lights up whenever she talks about her. She’s even shown Lucas pictures and told him stories of their life back in Seattle. Supposedly, Farkle was a crazy club kid and Maya and Smackle, her girlfriend, would be the ones looking after him. At first Lucas doesn’t believe this, but one look at Farkle can tell you that that is absolutely what went down in Seattle. Lucas is slightly impressed and slightly shocked. Overall, he learns to take Maya’s word for truth.

He’s working the register one day, Maya sitting at the end of the counter and talking to Farkle, when he gets a customer with big brown eyes and a bright smile. She’s very sweet, she gives him her order and puts more money in the tip jar than most people, and takes an extra moment to scribble on her receipt. When she’s gone, he wanders over to Maya and Farkle. Maya has her eyebrows raised and Farkle is leaning up against the counter, arms crossed and eyes downcast. Lucas frowns, looking between them. “What?”

“Seriously?” Maya says. Lucas just frowns more deeply, so she sighs and shakes her head. “Men, we have to spell everything out for you.” She points to the door. “That girl? Was just hitting on you. Big time.”

He looks to the door and back. Then does it again. “Really?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes and makes a grabby hand for the receipt. He hands it over and she takes very little time reviewing it before handing it back to him, pointing at the number and heart scrawled at the bottom. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” she says. Then she pauses and adds, “You should call her.”

Lucas shrugs, tucking the receipt into his back pocket. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

Maya frowns. “Why?” she asks. “Are you in a monogamous relationship with someone back home? Are you afraid of commitment? Are you gay?”

Farkle is suddenly alert. He splutters. “Maya! You can’t just say that!”

But Lucas just laughs and shakes his head. “I’m just a little gunshy after my last relationship,” he says. “I think I want to know if someone is my soulmate before I date them.” At this, Farkle scoffs and picks up a glass off the counter, walking it towards the sink. Lucas and Maya stare after him. “What, do you not believe in soulmates?” he asks. For some reason, he’s afraid of the answer.

“Ignore him,” Maya instructs. “He’s just bitter and lonely.” Farkle glares at her but she continues. “I, on the other hand, think soulmates are wonderful. You just have to keep looking to find the right person.” She holds up her soulmate mark - a blue crown at the base of her middle finger on her right hand.

Farkle interjects again. “It’s not that I hate soulmates _or_ that I’m bitter and lonely,” he says. “It’s just that I believe that soulmates aren’t always the answer. I mean, Maya, your parents are, like, the most epic romance of all time and they’re not soulmates.”

Maya shrugs. “My mom never met her soulmate and Shawn’s died when she was in her twenties,” she says. “My dad lives with his soulmate now in Florida. She’s a bitch and he’s an ass - they seem to be a match made in Hell.”

He ignores her and continues. “Plus, my parents are soulmates and they fought constantly.” He shrugs and turns off the faucet, placing the glass back with the rest of its kind. “I just think it’s worth a shot to try with other people. I mean, I’ve never met my soulmate, so that’s just coming from someone bitter and lonely.” He shoots Maya a look and enters the breakroom. She just rolls her eyes. Lucas feels the receipt laying heavily in his pocket.

* * *

It’s been a week since Lucas started dating Missy, and Farkle… feels things.

He feels dumb, for one. He feels dumb for opening up his big mouth and telling Lucas that he should give other people besides his soulmate a try. Lucas listened to him, which led him to feeling other things. Sad, for one; lonely, for another. And some other strange feeling, somewhere between jealousy and disgust.

Maybe Maya is right - maybe he is just bitter and lonely. He's jealous because Lucas is dating someone and he isn't.

Things continue normally, mostly; Maya goes back to Seattle with Smackle for Thanksgiving. They offer to take him with them, but he thinks about he possibility of running into his parents and blanches. “No thanks,” he says. “Maybe next time.” He sends his love to Katy and Shawn, and they leave.

Lucas stays. “I don’t have enough money for a plane ticket home for just a few days,” he says with a shrug. “I barely have enough money to eat.” Farkle smiles, and just like that, it’s the two of them again.

They talk and they talk and they talk. Farkle learns more about Lucas than he probably knows about Maya, which is a weird realization. Lucas learns more and more about Farkle, too, and eventually even gathers the courage to ask a question Farkle hadn’t even thought about.

“A while ago,” Lucas says, watching Farkle refill the cappuccino machine, “when you turned up forty-five minutes late, you said you were in a rough spot and it just got crazier. What did you mean? Why were you forty-five minutes late?”

Farkle huffs a laugh. “That was the day after I’d gotten my third job,” he replies.

He hears Lucas suck in a deep breath. “Three jobs?” he asks. Farkle just nods. “That’s… a lot. Aren’t you in school too?”

“Avalon School of Cosmetology,” Farkle says, “which is partially why I work three jobs. That and rent.”

“What else do you do?” Lucas asks.

“I work retail for a department store, and I’m a performer.”

Lucas makes an “ooh” noise, and says, “Performer, wow. Do you do anything I would know?”

Farkle raises his eyebrows, looks at him, and replies decidedly, “No.”

For a moment, Lucas looks a little offended that Farkle thinks he wouldn’t know the first thing about his type of performance. But he bounces back and asks, “What do you do, then?”

That knocks Farkle off balance. There is no way that he’s telling this presumably straight, Catholic, country boy that he dresses up as a woman, of all things. Or, he assumes that's what Lucas would understand it as. To Farkle, drag is so much more than that; it's blurring the lines between men and women. It's twisting gender to one’s own comfort. It's art. But he has no idea if Lucas would understand that. So he just says, “It’s just some underground performance art. Nothing to get excited about.”

Then he goes back to filling up the machine. He doesn’t see Lucas when he says it, but he hears the genuineness in his voice when he says, “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s amazing. I’d love to see it sometime.”

And he thinks Lucas actually means it. His heart clenches and he feels fucked.

Then Lucas goes on his break to call Missy and he feels even more fucked.

He thinks that it might be possible that he isn't jealous of Lucas… he's jealous of Missy.

* * *

Missy is… something.

He finds out quickly that she isn’t his soulmate. Unlike Riley, she is not shy about discussing it first and foremost. So she shows him her collarbone, where there’s a little diamond ring, and Lucas tells her it’s not a match. She doesn’t seem to care.

He cares. And he knows that it won’t last - she’s fun and sassy, but she’s not meant for him. He can just feel it. But he thinks about what Farkle said, that maybe soulmates aren’t always the answer, and he decides to keep dating her anyway.

The final nail in the coffin telling him it won’t last - Zay _hates_ her. “She’s bratty,” he says. “I don’t like it. Date her all you want, but consider me off the wedding invite list.” Lucas promises he won’t ask her to marry him anytime soon.

Zay’s opinion clearly matters, and the only other opinion he’d want to hear is Farkle’s, but every time he brings it up, Farkle changes the subject. So he stops asking and considers it a decided _no_ on Farkle’s part.

But... 

_“Soulmates aren’t always the answer.”_

If Farkle can be happy and confident without his soulmate, then why can’t he?

* * *

He bats Maya’s hand away from his fries. “Get your own,” he says. “And besides, I called this meeting to order to talk about my problems, not for you to steal my food like a scoundrel.”

She makes a whining noise and lays her head on Smackle’s shoulder. “But I’m so _hungry,_ ” she complains. “We haven’t eaten since dinner yesterday, and the plane ride was _so long._ ”

Farkle rolls his eyes and pushes his fries towards her, muttering about how the waiter would bring her her food in just a few minutes anyway. She ignores him and starts munching down on his fries.

“So how _was_ Seattle, anyway?” he asks.

Maya pauses a moment to think and Smackle suddenly goes very still. “Not bad, all things considered,” Maya says. “My parents were, you know, my parents, and Smackle’s folks made this… tofu turkey? They called it ‘tofurkey.’ It was gross. No offense, babe, but - ”

“We saw your parents!” Smackle blurts. They both look at her, Farkle with wide eyes and Maya looking annoyed. Smackle looks between both of them and then to Farkle. “They’re so worried about you,” she says. She’s talking quickly, like she needs to get it all out before he shuts her down. “Well, I don’t know about your dad, he just kind of stood there stoically, but your mom was near tears - she asked us how you were and where you were.” She looks sheepish now, like she’s embarrassed that she spoke so boldly about something he has such strong feelings on. “I just… would it be such a hardship to go see her? Maybe for Christmas? You could fly down with Maya and I, my parents have the money. Hell, your parents have the money.”

For a minute, he just lets her words sink in. Is it possible that his parents were actually worried about him? Even after all the ugly words they said to him on the last night they saw him? He quickly dismisses it as impossible, and goes back to what he knows best: the truth. “Jennifer was always known for her terrific acting skills,” he mutters, and shakes his head. “Smackle, you know I can’t go back there.”

Maya nods. “Which is why we _agreed_ we wouldn’t tell you about it,” she says, more to Smackle then to him. Then she turns so that she is completely facing him from across the table. “We didn’t tell her anything, honey. I made sure my bleeding heart softie of a girlfriend didn’t tell her where you were or what you were doing. I just said that you were fine and handling yourself quite nicely.”

Farkle raises his eyebrows, a little impressed by her maturity. If he’d been asked what he thought Maya would say to his parents, he would have bet on a lot more swearing, punching, and spitting. “That’s all?”

She frowns and shrugs, going back to his fries. “I might have mentioned that you have a super hot boyfriend,” she says casually. “Which is really just all the more reason to get one.”

He groans and puts his head down on his arms. A great segue into his current problem, parents aside. “Therein lies the shit show,” he says. He glances up to see both girls looking at him curiously. “I think I have a problem.”

Smackle furrows his brows, but Maya looks way too excited. “Hold on, hold on,” she says. She adjusts herself in the booth, puts a fry in her mouth, and cups a hand to her ear. “Okay,” she says, muffled through her mouth full.

He glares at her and turns his attention to Smackle. “I think… I think I have a crush on Lucas,” he says.

Maya whoops, ridiculously loudly. The patrons around her shush her, but she doesn’t seem to care. She swallows her fry and leans across the table. “So Maya was… what?”

Farkle rolls his eyes. “Maya was right,” he mutters. She does some sort of victory dance, waving her arms in the air like some deranged muppet.

Just as she finishes, the waiter arrives and puts her food down in front of her, and Smackle’s too. “You couldn’t have come ten seconds ago?” Maya asks. “This is literally the only thing that would have made that moment better.” The waiter just half-smiles at her, and Farkle silently apologizes before they walk away.

Farkle decides, maturely, to ignore Maya entirely and focus all of his attention on Smackle. “I feel ridiculously stupid about it,” he says. “But he’s so sweet and smart, and he knows when to tell me to shut up. It’s ridiculous but…”

Smackle smiles at him softly, and reaches out to touch his hand. “It’s okay,” she says. “We’ve all been there before. But he’s your coworker, so you need to either live with it or quit.”

This is true. And there’s no way he can quit. “Not to mention he only wants to date his soulmate,” Maya adds. “And there’s no way White Bread Straight Boy is your soulmate.”

This is also true. “Guess I just ignore it,” Farkle says, but it’s phrased more like a question. If Maya or Smackle have an alternative solution he hasn’t thought of, he’d be glad to hear it. But they just nod at him.


	4. Chapter 4

The month passes slowly. Everyone’s getting ready for Christmas, including Lucas, who is getting ready in an intense and ridiculous fashion. Farkle is trying so hard to find it annoying, but he just finds it endearing. He comes in with ugly Christmas shirts under his smock and his ringtone is now “Jingle Bell Rock.” Meanwhile, Farkle yearns for the early days of their friendship when he hated him.

He tries to go back to focusing on Lucas’s negative aspects, but it seems like he can’t. He spends a whole day in early December trying to focus on how Lucas is way too nice to literally everyone he speaks to, and then another day thinking about how ridiculously obtuse he is. But it’s to no avail - Lucas is too good. Sure he's obtuse, but in a charming way. And yes, he's nice, but isn't that part of the appeal?

So then he tries to focus on the fact that Farkle sucks and definitely is not worth Lucas’s time, in a relationship or even in a friendship. This works for a while, but then he gets drunk one too many nights and confesses this method to Smackle, who (when he’s sober) gives him a stern talking-to about the value of self-worth and reminds him of all his good traits.

After that, he’s reduced to thinking about how much his friendship with Lucas is worth, and why would he want to mess all that up with something like romance?

He thinks of Lucas like a brother.

He thinks of Lucas like a brother.

He thinks of Lucas like a brother.

He thinks -

Like he’s fooling anyone.

He sighs and puts his head down on the counter he just polished, only to feel a warm hand on his back. He looks up to see Lucas smiling at him, in his t-shirt that has a picture of Darth Vader in a santa hat that says, “Merry Sith-mas!” “Hey,” he says. “Are you okay?”

This is another thing - he used to be annoyed when Lucas asked if he was okay. But now it’s like Farkle gets the feeling that he actually means it, and wants to answer, making him want Lucas to ask more and more. It’s a trap to which he frequently succumbs. Farkle is weak. He’s so weak.

He gives Lucas a half smile and nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Just fine.”

“You can’t be sad, it’s Christmas.” Lucas points from his shirt to Farkle’s own shirt - a plain black tee. “Why are you not in the Christmas spirit?” he asks.

Farkle chuckles. “Well, first of all, I’m Jewish,” he says. Lucas’s face falls, like he thinks he offended Farkle, who shakes his head. “No, it’s okay, really. I don’t practice. I kind of fell out, but I never celebrated Christmas at home. I did with Maya and her family a few times, but more as a Hallmark holiday and not a spiritual one.”

Lucas nods, and then Farkle asks about his Christmas experience. Lucas lights up as he talks about some of his family traditions for Christmas, like drinking eggnog with his friend Zay and going to mass and listening to his father preach. Farkle, in turn, talks about what it was like at Hanukkah when all of his extended family would show up and stay with them. It was a long time ago, but it feels good to talk about it fondly for once, instead of pretending he has no family. While he doesn’t for a second regret his decision to leave home, and he loves Maya and Smackle to death for supporting him and allowing him not to talk about it, he does have some fond memories with his family even if he doesn’t like to admit it.

The next day Lucas comes into the shop with a new t-shirt: it has a picture of Han Solo holding a menorah, and the script says “Keep the Han in Hanukkah!” Lucas grins and shows him the shirt. “Do you like it?” he asks.

“It’s great,” Farkle says. What he means is, _I'm thinking about kissing you right now_. He’s _weak_.

* * *

Christmas is finally upon them, and he’s saved up just enough money for a ticket to home and back. Zay is going with him, and from what he hears, Maya and Smackle are headed home to their own families. But that leaves just one.

“Aren’t you going home for the holidays?”

Farkle shakes his head. They’re closing up for the day, and Farkle has the key in his hand as he locks the break room door. “Like I said, I don’t do Christmas,” he says. “And I don’t even talk to my family, so there’s nothing to go home for.”

Lucas raises his eyebrows. Farkle is a good guy, there’s no reason for him not to talk to his family. He tries to go back in all their conversations and remember a time where Farkle said something about this, but can’t recall anything. It makes him wonder. But he doesn’t ask. Instead, he just says, “Oh. Can’t you go home to Maya’s?”

“As much as I wish they were my parents, they aren’t,” Farkle says, shrugging. “And I’m sure they’d much rather see Maya and Smackle then me. I’ll Skype them, probably. Besides, I’m broke, so getting a plane ticket is harder than movies would make it out to be.” He just shrugs again and gives Lucas a look, half-nonchalant and half-sad. He has eyes too astounding, in Lucas’s opinion, to have that look to them.

It makes him sad. As much as his parents piss him off sometimes, he can’t imagine not having them in his life. Not to mention, Farkle has literally _no one_ to spend the holidays with. No presents and no trees, no eggnog and no cards, no friends and no family. He mentions that he has work on Christmas Eve, but that’s it. Lucas won’t even be around to cheer him up.

So he gets an idea.

He takes the idea, wraps it up, and leaves it for Farkle to find on the counter. _For Farkle. Happy Hanukkah! I didn’t have enough money for eight gifts, but I hope this will do. Don’t open until Christmas! Text me. - Lucas._ With his number scrawled at the bottom. He hopes that Farkle will actually take him up on it, and not ignore him, like he half-fears.

* * *

Christmas, to put it lightly, sucks. As much as he loves drag and performing, audience members tend to go nuts sometimes. Especially when they hold up signs with his mark on them. He loves his fans but… not like that.

He sometimes forgets to cover it up (and by sometimes, he means almost always), so when he wears a one piece or something else that leaves his hip bear, it’s there for the audience to see. So they have it on signs. At least he doesn’t have the worst of it - in Seattle, when he was just a drag baby, there were older queens who told him stories of fans who got their mark tattooed on to match them. Farkle has no idea how they dealt with it, and he doesn’t think he could be bothered to try if it ever happened.

His gig on Christmas Eve has three people who hold up signs with a rainbow-colored moon on them, and four who try to give him Christmas presents. Typically when people try to give him or Maya things after the show, they’ll have a bouncer go through it for them and make sure it’s okay to take home. But since this is a private party, he’s forced to just accept the gifts and take them home, regardless of the level of danger. They turn out to be fairly harmless, two cards with money inside, a new skirt that might be too big on him that he can probably hem, and what looks like a handmade sequined bra. It’s beautiful.

When he gets home, he does as promised and Skypes the Hart-Hunters. Maya shows off the new wig she got from Smackle, Smackle and Shawn tell him happy holidays, and Katy tells him she misses him and he should come visit soon. He thanks her, and then thanks Maya again for the dress she bought him and thanks Smackle for the Sephora gift card. Then he hangs up and sighs.

Gleaming red wrapping paper catches his eye from the corner of the room. He still hasn’t opened it and it sits there, taunting him. _“Open me,”_ it calls. _“Open me._ ” It’s been there for a week, ever since Lucas left for Texas. He’s done a pretty good job of ignoring it up until now. But he’s on his second glass of wine and he’s lonely, so he supposes it can’t wait much longer.

He waits until midnight, because Lucas asked him not to open it until Christmas, and tears open the wrapping paper.

A black beanie with a tiny menorah embroidered on it. And a shirt that says “I chose my own family.”

He resolved not to text Lucas, but he’s crying and emotional and a little tipsy, so he can’t help himself.

**To: Lucas** **  
** **thank you xx**

The response is immediate.

**From: Lucas** **  
** **Of course!! Happy holidays, Farkle. - Part of your chosen family, hopefully.**

The night, after that, is a blur of tears and more eggnog.

* * *

Post-Christmas is relatively boring. He returns to work and he and Farkle return to their regularly scheduled friendship. He introduces Farkle to Zay, who immediately likes him. “He has character,” Zay says. “He’s just the right amount of asshole and humble.” It’s the best review Zay has had of anyone in Alameda thus far.

January passes in a blur. It seems like someone put the shop on some kind of internet list of affordable hangout spots in California, so they’re getting more customers than ever. According to Farkle, he’s also getting hit on more than ever, but apparently he can’t really tell, so he sees no difference. He and Missy are doing okay; they’re still not serious, but they’re going on casual dates and stuff, which is nice.

In February the hype dies down a little, and Lucas is spending more and more time studying while working. Farkle even helps him, reading him questions and helping him to make flashcard after flashcard. When Lucas asks why he’s helping him and not studying for his own classes, Farkle just shrugs and says he doesn’t have to study for makeup. It just comes out of him. This is fair, Lucas supposes.

When he passes his midterms with flying colors, Farkle is ecstatic. “I knew you could do it,” he says.

Lucas shrugs. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says. “I probably would have just done better if you had taken the exams for me, though.”

Farkle laughs. “Probably,” he agrees, teasing. Lucas is stuck on his laugh. He likes it when Farkle laughs.

In March it begins raining, heavily. It's hard to get to and from the dorm and the shop, but the thought of not hanging out with Farkle drives him to get on the bus anyway.

One night, however, it's so bad that public transport shuts down. The rain is heavy, thunder is booming, and the power has officially gone out. Lucas is trying desperately to light the only candle in the store as Farkle makes a phone call. It’s when he’s on the thirtieth attempt at sparking the lighter when Farkle ends his phone call and sighs. “Well, that was Maya,” he says. “She and Smackle are stuck at work for the night, because the roads are closed.”

Lucas frowns as Farkle takes the lighter from his hands. Farkle’s hands are soft and warm. “The roads are closed?” he asks. “Why?”

“It’s basically a mini hurricane out there,” Farkle explains, attempting and failing to light the candle as well. He eventually just shakes his head and puts the lighter down, done with the candle altogether. “Traffic lights have stopped working, trees have fallen. They’ve told everybody to get inside.”

They both look out the window as lighting strikes close to the ground. Farkle flinches and Lucas feels his own heart jump as well. The flash dissipates and they’re left in darkness. “Are we staying here, then?”

Farkle sighs. “I would much rather go home,” he says candidly. “My apartment’s about a block away.” He glances at Lucas out of the corner of his eyes, a light flicker as if he's nervous for some reason. “You can, uh… you can come too. If, I mean, if you’re okay with running through rain?”

He thinks about a warm shower and a comfortable bed to sleep on instead of a hard cafe floor. If there is anyone he would want to get struck by lightning with, it’d be Farkle.

So they pull on their hoodies and lock up the store, then begin running.

Lucas belatedly realizes that not only that he and Farkle have never hung out before outside of work, but he has definitely never been to his apartment and has not the faintest idea where it is. At one point he stumbles on what he can only assume is uneven sidewalk, and Farkle’s hand reaches out and takes his to steady him. They keep holding on until they reach Farkle’s building and are safely inside. It’s then that Farkle seems to realize their hands are still intertwined; he drops them immediately, blushing and shaking his head. “Sorry,” he says. “Um, come on.”

He leads Lucas to an elevator where they both stand in relative silence, dripping with rainwater and staring down at their shoes for the entire ride. Once they reach their floor, Farkle walks to almost the dead middle of the hallway and comes to a stop outside of his door. He slides his key in and opens the door, ushering Lucas in. “Welcome to Hell,” he announces.

Lucas honestly doesn’t think the apartment is as bad as Farkle makes it out to be. Sure, it's no penthouse in Soho, but it looks comfortable; the floor is wooden, the walls are painted a plain yellow, there are two bedrooms off the living room and a kitchen area. To Lucas it looks… good. He turns to Farkle, who's leaning against the door and looking like he's waiting for Lucas’s opinion. “It’s nice,” he says honestly, and Farkle snorts.

“It’s better than the floor of a cafe,” he corrects. He nods to the couch. “Take a seat. I'll get you some dry clothes and we'll figure out where you can sleep.”

Lucas does as told, taking a seat on the couch even though he gets it wet with rainwater where he sits. He takes the opportunity to look around; posters hang on the wall, along with pictures, some of people he recognizes and some he doesn’t. There are paintings as well, and sketches of each roommate. (Maybe Maya or her girlfriend is an artist. It would make the most sense, considering.) There is a TV across from him, with a DVD case he can’t quite make out laying on top of it, and behind it there is a door he can only assume leads to the bathroom. On the coffee table in front of him are several crossword books, along with a medical journal and a fashion magazine or two. Directly next to the front door, there is a rack with a coat on it, as well as the beanie Lucas bought Farkle for Christmas. Behind that is a picture of Farkle, Maya, Maya’s girlfriend, a blonde woman, and a brunet man. They’re all smiling, and Lucas thinks, for a moment, that this must be Farkle’s family. And then realizes that it must be Maya’s.

He moves on before the thoughts overwhelm him.

On the walls adjacent to the front door, there are two doors across from each other leading off to what he assumes are separate bedrooms. The one Farkle went through is to the right, and the other to the left. The one to the left has a very simple style, with two butterflies painted onto the outside. But hanging on the one Farkle went through is the most beautiful dress he has ever seen.

He slowly rises to his feet and crosses to it. It fades from purple into teal, and is cut so that it would hug the body of whoever wore it. It looks like something a mermaid or a princess would wear in a Disney cartoon. It’s very pretty, he thinks distantly, and touches the sequins gently. He’s afraid of it being fragile, of it crumbling underneath his fingertips. But he runs a hand over it anyway and watches the pattern change. He realizes, then, that the door to the room is ajar. Farkle is inside, with nothing covering his chest and only a towel wrapped around his hips.

His heart jumps into his throat and he scrambles backwards, hoping to erase what he’s seen - he feels like he’s been snooping. But when he closes his eyes he sees a firm chest and smooth shoulders and wet skin. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling now.

* * *

Farkle opens the door to the living room, where Lucas is sitting in the exact same spot on the couch where he left him. “Hey,” he says. “So, I don’t know if any of my clothes will actually fit you, since I’m so frail and tiny, but I found what must be old clothes from Maya’s dad or something…” He frowns as he realizes Lucas has not turned to face him this whole time. “Hey, you okay?”

Lucas shakes his head. “Uh, fine.” He stands and turns to Farkle with a tight lipped-smile. It unsettles him; over his three months of complete pining, he’s gotten used to at least seeing Lucas’s genuine smile and self. He was fine before he left the living room. Lucas nods to the clothes in his hands. “Are those them?”

He almost forgot about them. “Hm? Oh, yeah. Here.” He moves to hand the clothes to Lucas and Lucas flinches. “What is up with you?”

Once again, Lucas shakes his head, like he’s shaking himself from something. “Sorry,” he sighs. “It’s stupid. Here.” He holds his hands out to take the clothes.

“It’s not stupid,” Farkle says, stepping backward just a bit. “Nothing you think could ever be stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

Lucas shrugs. “It’s nothing. Can’t you just drop it?”

“I’m worried about you. I can’t be worried when all the sudden my friend is acting like I have the plague?”

“Stop being so dramatic. I know you don’t have the plague. I promise, it’s stupid. If I wanted you to know, I’d tell you.”

Farkle rolls his eyes. “Lucas, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t - ”

“Farkle,” Lucas snaps. It’s the first time he’s heard him get properly angry in months. “Leave it. Just because you think you know everything doesn’t mean you actually have to.”

Farkle recoils and sighs. He doesn’t know what he’s done to set Lucas off, but he decides, for once in his life, to go gently. “I don’t know what I did or said, but I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I’d like to know what’s upsetting you.”

Lucas huffs. “Farkle, as much as you like to play the victim and pretend the world revolves around you, it doesn’t. As mysterious and cool and suave you think you are, this is not the Farkle Minkus Show and the rest of us are not your supporting cast. You can’t just… snap your fingers and have us fall into place around you.”

There’s a long silence that hangs in the air after that. Before now, Farkle thought they were getting somewhere. Even if he’d had a stupid crush on Lucas, he was comfortable with being his friend - which was honestly a miracle, since he’d spent months hating everyone who wasn’t Maya, Smackle, Shawn, or Katy. But there goes that underlying anger he, at first, had admired about Lucas - it doesn’t feel as great when it’s turned on you. He feels his resolve harden, the walls he’d had in place when they’d first met in place rebuilding themselves, and he thinks: _run._

In one swift movement, he throws the clothes to the floor at Lucas’s feet. “ _Fine,_ ” he says. Then he turns around and storms back to his bedroom, not even bothering to tell Lucas he could sleep in Maya and Smackle’s room. Let him wake up in pain in the morning - maybe Farkle won’t be the only one.

* * *

He keeps telling himself that it’s stupid - he can’t take out finding Farkle attractive on Farkle. And how come he’s just piecing this together now, anyway? Until now, he just knew he’d really liked it when Farkle laughed and smiled and told him about something he really liked. But he just thought that that was friendship? He’d never been attracted to a boy before, though - that went entirely against what his dad preached. The mark was between one man and one woman.

But then why couldn’t he stop thinking about his friendship with Farkle?

He thought back, to the time they first met. Was he attracted to him then? He didn’t think so - he just remembered finding him annoying and conceited. And then once they were friends? Was that all a front for him secretly finding him attractive? He shakes his head and rubs a hand over his eyes. This is all too fucking much.

He does get changed out of his wet clothes and into the ones Farkle left him. They’re a little big on him, and a little warm, but they smell like Farkle which is nice. Comforting. He decides he’ll talk to Farkle in the morning.

* * *

There’s no way he’s talking to Lucas. He leaves a note on the coffee table and sneaks out.

* * *

_Lucas,_

_I went to work._

_\- Farkle._

He fucked up.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucas enters the shop looking determined and, God, Farkle knows he should have probably just quit but he needs the job. Immediately, Lucas turns to the door and flips the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed.’ It’s been a week since the rain incident and Farkle has been really good at ignoring Lucas by not answering his calls and texts, calling out sick every time he’s been scheduled, and spending all his time with Maya and Smackle and Not Thinking About It. He thought, by now, maybe Lucas would have gotten the hint.

He should have known he was wrong.

“We need to talk,” Lucas says, looking every bit the angry cowboy he was when they first met.

Farkle sighs and goes back to washing the cups. “I have nothing to say,” he says, firmly, and he means it. He didn’t take Lucas into his house just to be screamed at. Maybe he’s overreacting a tad, but liking someone as much as he likes Lucas and knowing it can never be reciprocated can go a long way in driving someone to be a little dramatic.

“Farkle, hear me out. I was being an asshole that night for totally personal reasons -”

“It didn’t feel personal to me.”

“I was freaking out.”

“I freaked out after I got screamed at.”

Lucas pauses and breathes out deeply. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That’s the short version. I didn’t mean to get angry.”

He pauses. It’s a choice - stay angry and distance himself from what could be a disastrous crush, or keep one of the best friendships he’s ever had. He looks from the rag in his hand to Lucas and sighs. “Get to work,” he mutters, going back to wiping his cup.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” Lucas asks.

Farkle raises his eyebrows. Lucas looks a mixture of sad and hopeful. His walls are beginning to crumble once again. “It means you’re on probation,” he says with finality. He puts the cup down and goes into the breakroom.

* * *

Farkle really meant it when he said that Lucas was on probation. It’s almost like he’s half-forgiven. While once Farkle had shared his laughter and his personality, the most Lucas gets now is a tight-lipped smile at a joke or an offhand, half-hearted comment.

On the one hand, it hurts. It really hurts that he’s lost such a big part of his life. He considers Farkle one of his best friends, and to know he hurt him really sucks. But on the other, it could be for the better. It’s only been two weeks since they fought, and he still has no idea what he’s feeling. Half of him is convinced that what happened was a fluke, and he could never find another boy attractive. That half hears his father’s sermons on loop in his head. The other half of him is… lost. This half hears what the other half is trying to tell it, but plays over the sermons with other things - Farkle’s laugh, for instance. The way he polishes the counter when he gets nervous. The way he talks about his family, on the rare occasion he speaks of them at all. The way he always believes in Lucas. The way he knows weird things and is far too dramatic and uses humor when he’s uncomfortable. This half believes in the power of love crossing all boundaries like gender and marks. This half is confusing the hell out of Lucas.

He had only been ever told two things: live by the Church and marry your soulmate. He seems to feel the need to betray himself on both accounts.

It’s the beginning of April and the sun is finally back out and shining again. For a state that was in a drought less than a year ago, the thunderstorms have been abundant. Farkle is in the breakroom, on the phone for something work-related. (What job and what it’s about he doesn’t tell Lucas. Lucas is not surprised.) It’s spring break, so most people - including most of their clientele - are vacationing. Not Farkle. Farkle is working twice as hard at each of his jobs. He never breaks, he never pauses to breathe. He’s like an overworked version of the energizer bunny.

Lucas, meanwhile, is tending to a customer up front. As it is spring break, the shop is significantly less quiet, leaving only a woman Skyping with her boyfriend and two older women gossiping in a booth. The man at the cash register now is an uptight businessman who looks like the only reason he’s here is because the line at Starbucks was too long. Lucas makes his order punctually and perfectly. The man doesn’t tip. What a surprise.

As he’s putting more creamer in the creamer pot, he hears the door squeak open. He turns and puts on his best ‘dealing with customers’ face only to realize that it isn’t a customer at all. “Maya,” he says, blinking, the smile falling from his face. She smiles and leans on the counter. She says nothing. He looks from her to the door to the back room. “Uh, Farkle is on the phone, but -”

“Ah, no worries, Huckleberry,” she says. “I’m here to see you.”

That’s odd. Not that he doesn’t like Maya, because he does, but it’s not like he is friends with her like Farkle is. He frowns. “Um, okay. Is everything alright?”

She laughs. “‘Course it is,” she says. “But I just wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

He glances at the door. No one is pulling up at the curb, no one is walking past. He shrugs and allows her to pull him to the end of the counter. “What’s up?”

She smiles at him, gently. “Listen up, dick stick,” she says. “I know that you and Farkle are in the middle of a big fight.”

“He said that?” he interrupts.

Maya rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t _have_ to. He used to talk about you all the time, and now he barely says a word.” For a moment, Lucas thinks that the point of Maya’s visit is to scorn him for hurting Farkle in some way. The fear must show in his eyes, because she chuckles. “Relax. I’m not going to hit you. Today. I’m just going to tell you you should come to see our show on Saturday.”

Lucas raises his eyebrows. “Your show? Like, you and Farkle’s super secret work that he won’t tell me about?” She just stares at him. “Yeah. Duh, of course that show. Um…” He frowns. “Why should I go?”

She sighs and looks over his shoulder to the breakroom. He looks too. Not a sign of Farkle. They go back to their own conversation. “Listen, he really likes you,” she explains. “You’re one of the only people in this town who aren’t me and Smackle that he doesn’t want to punch. He may be acting like a dick, but he’s really secretive and overdramatic and touchy for a reason. Just… come see the show.”

He thinks about Farkle. About the friendship that he wants to save. About his weird and confusing feelings that go against everything he has ever believed in. It may be better to push Farkle away. But can he do that and remain in good conscience? When he knows that there was potential to fix things, even if it means ignoring his newfound attraction to not only a new person, but a whole new gender? Wouldn’t his parents care more about his maintaining an important friendship than about whatever immoral feelings he may have? “Okay,” he says. She looks surprised, like his answer caught her off guard. “Okay, I’ll come. Um… here, I’ll give you my number.”

She gives him her phone and he hurriedly types it in. He just wants to the whole thing to be over before Farkle comes out and catches them. Realistically, he knows they’re doing nothing wrong. But he still somehow feels dirty. Like he’s betraying Farkle’s trust.

The moment he’s done, she snatches the phone back and grins. “Pleasure doing business with you, Huckleberry,” she says. Then she turns and exits the shop.

A few minutes later, after Maya is long gone, Farkle exits the breakroom. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Work emergency.”

“Was it about your performance work?” Lucas asks.

As per usual when Lucas asks about his performance job, Farkle clams up. Instead of answering, he looks around the coffee shop. Not much has changed since he went into the back room and Maya came by; the woman is still on Skype, the businessman has been gone for ages, and the old ladies are swapped out for some old men playing poker over some breakfast muffins. “Did I miss anything?” Farkle asks.

Lucas shrugs. “Nothing much.”

Farkle gives him yet another of his tight-lipped awkward smiles and goes back to work. Suddenly, Lucas can’t wait to see the show on Saturday.

He feels a buzz in his back pocket and reaches for it. Absurdly, he hopes it’s Maya, texting him the details of the show. But as he reads the message, his stomach drops.

**From: Missy**

**hey! been worried about you since we haven’t made plans in ages.**

**From: Missy**

**call me soon! i get back to town on thursday, so friday or saturday work perfect for me! xx**

In all the shenanigans, it seems as if he’d forgotten about Missy entirely.

* * *

Farkle thinks it’s ridiculously draining to be mad at Lucas each and every day. He would love to give it up, to go back to listening to Lucas’s dumb stories and exchanging for dumb stories of his own. But… something about what Lucas said and the way he said them got to him, and he can’t let that feeling go for a couple of jokes and an apology. Lucas may have to do something extraordinary to get back in Farkle’s good graces.

After working a double shift at the department store, he comes home to Maya curled up on the couch with Smackle nowhere in sight. “Hey,” he says sleepily. “Where’s your better half?”

Maya sighs. “In the bedroom. I’m in the metaphorical doghouse.”

“Why?”

She shrugs and replies simply, “I’m nosy and Smackle thinks I should mind my own business.” She turns to face him where he’s kicking off his boots at the door. “Want to watch a terrible horror movie and wallow with me?”

Nothing could sound more relaxing. So he climbs under the blankets with Maya and they watch the original _Carrie,_ one of their favorites (Farkle loves it for the prom, Maya loves it for the blood). By morning, Smackle has curled up with them and Farkle has almost forgotten about Lucas.

Almost.

* * *

While Farkle went from the end of their shift directly to another job, Lucas went about his life while pondering the logistics of breaking up with a sort-of girlfriend.

On the one hand, he and Missy have been dating for a few months now and it’s surely going nowhere. In fact, it’s probably better for him to break up with her because they both know that this isn’t endgame for either of them. It’s best to do it now and get it over with.

On the other hand, part of the reason why he would be breaking up with Missy is for Farkle. And there is a multitude of problems with that. For one, he’s still questioning his attraction entirely; sure, he likes it when Farkle smiles and he likes looking at his hips and he likes his smell and he misses him when their shift ends. But does that necessarily mean he has a crush on Farkle? (He’s pretty sure the answer is yes.) And if he does, then is he going against everything his parents have ever stood for? For another, he has no idea if Farkle would ever like him. Or even if he likes boys in general. He can’t just ask. And finally, he knows that if he breaks up with Missy, he’ll tell Farkle about his possible-probable-definite feelings. And that would be a disaster for two reasons. (See the first two reasons on this list.)

He’s so clouded by his decision that even Zay notices it. “Hey, earth to Lucas,” he whispers. They’re sitting across the table from each other in the school library, both studying for their finals. Well, they’re supposed to be studying; Lucas is zoned out and Zay seems to be looking for distractions.

Lucas shakes himself. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just have a lot on my mind, is all.”

“Care to share?” Zay asks.

He considers. Lucas has known Zay for many years, and has never known him to be judgemental. "Zay, did you ever believe what my dad used to preach?" he whispers.

Zay hums. "Which part?" he asks. "The part where I go to Hell for not having a mark? Because I always kind of hoped that one wasn't true."

Lucas smiles, despite himself. "No, although glad to know you're not planning on going to Hell." He pauses, trying to figure out the best way to phrase it. "The part where marks are between one man and one woman, and you shouldn't go outside the soulmate boundary."

Zay frowns, furrowing his eyebrows into what Lucas knows well is his thinking face. "Well, that part _really_ never made any sense to me," he replies, "because you can really only have it one way or the other."

Lucas frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Either you always stay within the mark, which means if your mark happens to be with a person of the same sex or you have more than one soulmate, you stay with them. Or you don't stay within the mark, which means that if you are in one of those situations, you don't have to stay in it. Either way it's a Catch 22." He sighs. "The Church should really stay with one bigoted view instead of spreading themselves out too thin and getting caught in a paradox."

Lucas nods thoughtfully. “Are either of them right?” he asks.

“Honestly, probably not. The Church just wants you to think you’re going to Hell at all times so you’ll pay your Church fees.”

This makes Lucas laugh. A librarian shushes them a few aisles away, and they both wave in half-apologetic gestures. Zay mutters something about libraries being evil and that she should just mind her own business. Lucas waves him off; it was a good talk. He thinks he's decided, anyway - about everything. About Missy, about Farkle, about marks. But he has one more person to talk to. After that, well… he'll say something after the show on Saturday.


	6. Chapter 6

Zay looks from the text on Lucas’s phone to the building they’re standing in front of. “Are you sure this is it?” he asks again.

Again, Lucas checks the address. It matches up exactly. “Pretty sure,” he says.

They're standing in front of what looks like a nightclub called “Pearl.” People are pouring in and out - all shapes, all sizes, all colors. Some are in jeans and some are in dresses; some are dressed head to toe in cloth and some are wearing the least they possibly can without getting arrested; some are wearing makeup and some are bare faced; some are holding hands with others and some are by themselves. To Lucas, all of it is nothing he's ever seen before. It's magic, it's art. It's a group of very different and incredible people all coexisting. It's a place where everyone can belong. It's… “Beautiful,” he murmurs, and Zay nods. He looks from his phone to the door, and then shrugs. “Might as well go in,” he says, but it's phrased like a question. Zay just grins and they head inside together.

The moment they enter, Lucas’s senses are overwhelmed. They're surrounded by lights, music, and various smells, like alcohol and sweat. Bubbles are coming from the ceiling, floating down to the floor around them, and there are people everywhere - above, below, to the sides. There are people at the bar, hanging from the ceiling by cloth, huddled by the stage or on the dance floor; they're surrounded. And suddenly he realizes -

“Did you know that everyone here was gonna be gay?” Zay has to shout to be heard over the music. Lucas shakes his head and in response, Zay just shrugs and says, “More than fine by me.”

While Zay is acting cool, Lucas is secretly worried. What if Maya sent him to the wrong location as a joke? What if she figured out his crush on Farkle and is now making fun of him? He pulls out his phone.

**To: Maya**

**Where are you???????**

He only waits a few seconds before getting a response.

**From: Maya**

**oh so u found the place??? hold onto ur horses, huckleberry; things r about to get a whole lot wilder. ;)**

He has literally no idea what that means.

He turns to tell Zay about the cryptic texts when suddenly, the music stops. Lucas and Zay look around, confused, but the other club attendees cheer and draw closer to the stage. Zay nods towards them. “Shall we?”

Lucas just shrugs. They trudge forward and through the crowd until they're at a place where they can both comfortably see. They wait in silence a few moments more and then the speakers crackle. A man's voice speaks, saying, “Ladies, gentlemen, and other distinguished guests! We welcome you tonight to the best club in the Alameda county! Club Pearl is proud to present a show that we think is kind of alright. Before we begin, a few ground rules - one, photography and recording are not only permitted but encouraged by the entertainers. Take a picture and they'll last forever! However, try to turn your flash off in order to keep from distraction. Number two, show some generosity to these monstrosities! They're working for tips and it takes a lot of money to look so cheap. And the third and most important? Have fun!” The audience applauds. “Now put your hands together for your master of ceremonies - he's hot, hard, large and in charge. He's a ladies’ man and a jack of all trades. He is rich enough to pay me to say all this. Give it up for the one, the only, the incomparable - Prince Deviance!”

The crowd goes wild as the lights go down onstage. When the noise dies down, one singular spotlight goes on on a man with his back turned to the audience. He's small and slight, with a head full of spiky purple hair, wearing a leather jacket. The speakers crackle and the start to “My Angel is the Centerfold” comes on. The words hit and the man turns around and begins lipsyncing along. His beard is covered in glitter, but matches his purple hair, and his face is decidedly pointed. He marches down to the front of the stage and suddenly Lucas is stricken with a realization.

“Oh my God,” he says. “That's Maya.”

The guy - Maya - dances and writhes around stage while lipsyncing to the music. He - she? - takes off the sparkly jacket and flings it into the audience, several people clamoring to catch it. She leans down and kisses a girl at the front of the stage, who he’s pretty sure is Smackle. Then, at one point, Maya - Prince - stops dead in her tracks, looks at Lucas, and grins wolfishly. Lucas is beyond unsettled.

When the song ends, Maya grabs the mic off the front of the stage and brings it to her mouth. “Hello, club Pearl! How are we all doing tonight?” The people around them clap wildly, cheering her on. “Thought so. As some of you may know, I am Prince Deviance, and I am beyond excited for the show tonight. For those of you who don't know, tonight's performance will be presented by a variety of drag performers, all of whom are listed on that banner that's above me, somewhere.”

Lucas looks up and scans the banner. He sees Prince Deviance, but no mention of Farkle - he could be going by a stage name, but Lucas’s stomach twists all the same. He’s hoping tonight he can make everything up to Farkle. But he can't if Farkle isn't here.

However, he finds that it might be worth it regardless as he watches the next performance. The performer, who goes only by Candied Apples, does a beautiful aerial show. The next after that does a stand up routine, and the next after that does a burlesque performance. Lucas finds himself enjoying every moment; even Zay is laughing and applauding every act. Maya, or Prince, introduces all of them. Eventually they play a game called ‘Snatch Game,’ in which several of the performers impersonate celebrities. Maya does a pretty good Justin Bieber impersonation, which Lucas makes a mental note to tease her for forever. There's also Sofia Vegara, Michael Jackson, and Betty White, along with a few Lucas fails to recognize. They're all very funny, but none of them are Farkle.

After Snatch Game is over, another performer comes out and does a juggling act. Lucas laughs, Zay wheezes. Then Maya comes out in what Lucas assumes is her closing outfit - a powder blue tux with a seaweed green wig and matching drawn on mustache. “Well, you all have been a great audience, but I am afraid it's almost time to bring our show to a close.” The crowd boos loudly. “I know, I know. We're sad to see you go, too! But thankfully, we have one last act.”

Around them, the audience begins tittering with excitement. Zay and Lucas exchange a glance but look back to Maya. She grins again and looks directly at them. “I know her, you love her. Give it up for Katy Delight!”

The audience goes nuts, and Lucas finds himself feeling anxious. He’s almost sure that this will be Farkle - but what if it isn’t? He feels his heart climbing up into his throat and his shoulders tense as Maya climbs off the stage and the lights go down. He swallows, hard, listening to the whispers around him and Zay nervously tapping his foot and the strumming of a guitar. He closes his eyes and hopes that he didn’t come here for nothing.

But… was it really nothing? Even if Farkle isn’t here, even if he’ll never know that Lucas came here to see him. Tonight, he’s entered an entirely new world; he’s seen things he never has before, things he never thought were possible. Everyone here is completely expressing themselves, and being with who they want to be with. They are entirely free. And isn’t that what he came here for? To be free - from the walls he’s put around himself? To love who he really wants to love?

He hears a spotlight flicker on and instantly opens his eyes. All is completely quiet, every eye trained on the center of the stage. Then there’s footsteps and -

And then Lucas sees it. The long, sequined gown, tailored to hug every curve of the body up until it fans out towards the floor like a mermaid’s tale. And wearing it is Farkle.

He can barely tell it’s Farkle. His already delicate features have been completely transformed so that they’re even smaller; his lips are fuller and painted a dark pink, his usually sharp jawline is delicately contoured, and his blue eyes are soft under the light. And the blonde hair, that looks so naturally blended into his hairline, is in soft curls around his face. He’s amazing. He’s beautiful.

Farkle looks almost regal, unphased by the audience now shouting around him. He reaches, with one hand adorned with sparkling nails, for the microphone stand in front of him, and breathes deeply as a ukulele begins to play. It’s the opening to Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Lucas notes distantly. And then Farkle begins to sing.

_Somewhere over the rainbow,_

_Way up high_

_And the dreams that you dreamed of_

_Once in a lullaby._

It’s beautiful. _Farkle_ is beautiful. It’s all coming together like a puzzle in his head; Farkle’s laughter, his blushing cheeks, his soft hands. He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before. Of course it’s Farkle, it always been him. He loves him.

_Somewhere over the rainbow_

_Blue birds fly,_

_And the dreams that you dreamed of_

_Dreams really do come true._

* * *

He’s exhausted. It’s been such a long day; he’s done three performances and two meet and greets, the second of which isn’t even over. Not to mention, Maya has been acting ridiculously weird today and it’s freaking him out. At least he’s finally changed out of that dress into a more comfortable one piece; that dress, while beautiful, almost gives him heat stroke.

A girl with braces greets him with a big smile. “Hi! Can I get a picture? It’s my birthday.”

Farkle smiles as warmly as he can. He’s tired, but Katy keeps going. She always does. “Of course,” he replies. He’s acting as calm and collected as he possibly can. That’s who Katy is; she’s calm, cool, and demure. She’s everything that Farkle isn’t, and she would never, ever be what he is: an awkward and dramatic spaz. “Happy birthday,” he says. She smiles brightly and shuffles over to pose with him. Farkle smiles as the boy, presumably the boyfriend she dragged to a drag show, takes a picture. They both smile and thank him and move on.

He leans down to take a drink of water as the next person moves forward in line. Farkle isn’t famous by any means; he’s never been on a television show or anything. The most people he’s seen at a show is around two or three hundred. But a couple of videos of him singing have gone around online, so people _will_ stop to take pictures with him if given an opportunity.

He’s about to turn around to face the next person when he hears “Hi.”

His blood instantly goes cold. He feels his shoulders tense up and his heart refuse to continue beating. For just a second, a split second, he thinks that maybe he’s wrong. Maybe he misheard or it’s just a combination of wishful thinking and paranoia. But if Katy and Farkle have one thing in common, it’s this: they’re never wrong.

Slowly, he turns and feels his heart drop from his chest. _Lucas._

But Lucas doesn’t look like he’s ready to punch him or scream at him. He has a smile on his face, almost dopey but still beautiful. How is he always so beautiful? He swallows, though his throat is dry. “Hi.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and it feels like it’s only them. It seems like nothing can break this moment; all he sees is Lucas, and Lucas is looking back and for the first time, Farkle feels _seen._ Not caught, like when his parents found a wig in his closet and screamed until their throats were raw; not noticed like when he does something dumb with Maya and Smackle and they look at each other, concerned. He feels like he’s ripped himself open, laid himself down for Lucas to see and Lucas loves every bit of it. His paranoia, his intelligence, his awkwardness. Even Katy, who’s as much a part of him as anything else. Lucas is smiling at him like he’s everything he’s ever wanted. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt. His heart feels heavy; all he wants to do is take a few strides forward and kiss him.

From behind Lucas’s shoulder, there’s a movement and suddenly Zay is there too. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry to interrupt. Your performance was amazing.”

Farkle shakes himself, slips himself back into Katy. She would see Lucas looking at her, like she was the most important thing in the world, and think, _So what?_ He smiles at Zay, small and unphased. “It’s quite alright. Thank you, Zay.” He looks back to Lucas, who’s still smiling.

There’s another moment of quiet. In one swift moment, Zay elbows Lucas and Lucas blinks wildly. “Oh,” he stammers. “Uh, I… yeah.” He grins sheepishly. “You have a beautiful voice.”

Farkle’s heart stutters in his chest. “Thank you,” he says gracefully. He hopes it’s gracefully. He’s beginning to lose it. “Did you boys enjoy the show?”

Lucas just grins that full, dopey grin and Zay rolls his eyes. “A little too much,” he mutters. This time, Lucas elbows him. Zay splutters, clears his throat and says, “Yes, we liked it a lot. Maya was…”

Oh, geez. “Maya is a _lot_ ,” he says. “Katy is a lady, and Prince is just a mess.”

The boys laugh. “Well, she did a lot to get us - oomph!” Zay’s sentence is cut off when Lucas nudges him again. Zay blinks and promptly shuts his mouth.

Farkle narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Did she get you two to come here?” he asks. They both quickly look away. “She did. She…” He sighs and shakes his head. “You know, whatever.” He looks at Lucas and smiles. “I’m glad you came.”

The smile that comes at that is brighter than the sun. “I’m glad I came too,” Lucas says softly.

Just then, one of the managers of the venue - Farkle can’t remember his name, maybe Dave? Farkle just remembers him shaking the vending machine when his corn chips didn’t come out. - steps so that he’s behind Lucas and Zay. “Hey guys, no offense,” he begins, and immediately Farkle takes full offense. “But Miss Katy has a lot of people to meet tonight, so we need to keep the line moving. Do you want me to take a picture for you folks?”

Lucas and Zay look at each other and have what Farkle can only assume is a silent conversation, because eventually, Zay shrugs. “Sure,” he replies.

Dave takes Lucas’s phone and Zay and Lucas shuffle up to him. Since he’s in heels, he’s taller now (which is so weird, to be taller than Lucas), so he puts his arms over their shoulders. Lucas snakes an arm around his waist and they all smile for Dave as he takes a picture. Once he’s done, Zay says, “Wait,” and moves out of the way back to where Dave stands. “Okay, take a second one,” he says confidently. Farkle looks to Lucas and Lucas looks back.

There’s that feeling again. Lucas is smiling and smiling and smiling. So he smiles back.

The flash goes off. “Alright, thanks for coming by guys,” Dave says. “Miss Katy?”

He rolls his eyes but smiles as Zay takes Lucas’s phone back and approaches. He hugs Zay tightly and then turns to Lucas. Lucas opens his mouth to speak but Farkle doesn’t care; he throws himself forward and wraps his arms around Lucas. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For coming. And I’m sorry for being so… I’m sorry. I have - ”

Lucas pulls back, shaking his head. “No, no,” he says. “Don’t be sorry. I’m sure you had your reasons just like I had mine for freaking out.” He smiles, gently, and flexes the fingers he’s left sitting on Farkle’s hips. Farkle’s heart stutters and he smiles back. “And if you want to tell me, you can tell me. Just… another time.” They both glance to where Corn Chip Dave is freaking out and trying to wave them on. They look back and each other and Lucas smiles again. “Another time. I’ll see you at work.”

At that, Lucas removes his hands and he and Zay leave him, feeling… oddly happy.

* * *

They walk in quiet as they leave the venue and begin the long walk back to their dorm. It’s then that Zay asks, “So, did you have a good time?”

That’s an understatement. After seeing Farkle onstage and seeing him after the show, glowing and smiling at Lucas like he’s the only thing he cares about, he feels like so much has changed. Everything has finally snapped into place. His heart is soaring in his chest and it’s all he can do not to run back and tell Farkle about everything. But he just says, “Yeah. Great time.”

“I would ask what your favorite performance was but I think I already know the answer.”

Lucas huffs a laugh. He’s still smiling, because he can’t stop. “Yeah,” he says. “Can you blame me? She’s beautiful. _He’s_ beautiful. After everything tonight, I honestly don’t know how I could have fooled myself for so long. I think I l… Zay?”

He looks beside him to see that Zay has not only stopped listening, but stopped walking. He tracks back to where Zay is holding his phone, blinking at it wildly. Lucas puts a hand on his back, concerned, and Zay jumps. “Uh,” he says, “dude, you might wanna take a look at this.” He pushes the phone into Lucas’s hands. “A good look.”

Lucas brings the phone towards himself and examines the picture. It’s him and Farkle - well, Katy. They’re looking at each other, smiling, and he knows in the picture his stomach is swarmed with butterflies. The feeling returns again now. He looks up at Zay but Zay shakes his head. “Keep looking,” he says. “Look at her legs.”

So he does. The high platform heels, the shapely and elegant legs.

Then the mark - a rainbow moon, staring back at him, from Farkle’s hip.

* * *

“So, did he show up?”

Farkle rolls his eyes as he puts his wig on the mannequin head sitting on the vanity. Prince is standing in the doorway, not quite out of drag just yet. Not Maya just yet. Instead, Prince is twice as loud and ten times as cocky. “Yes,” he says. “You did a good job.”

He wags his purple eyebrows and smiles. “I know,” Prince replies. “Just thought I’d make sure you knew.” They pause for a moment, Farkle taking off his makeup in the mirror and Prince idling in the doorway. Eventually, Prince speaks again. “I saw him look at you, you know. He really likes you.”

Farkle says nothing. He just keeps scrubbing away at the paint.

“Did he come and confess his love for you at the end of the night?”

That makes him laugh. “No,” he says. But for the first time, he has hope.

* * *

He can’t breathe. Really, truly, he can not breathe. Zay pats him on the back and takes the phone. “Deep breaths, buddy,” he says.

Lucas is trying, he is. Deep in through the nose and out through the mouth. That’s what his football coach always says. Or is it the other way around? His stomach is tight and his heart is pounding and he’s trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Farkle is his soulmate.

Farkle. Grouchy, snarky, rude, funny, loving, beautiful Farkle Minkus is his soulmate. He doesn’t know if he’s excited or scared.

On the one hand, he was ready to give up everything for Farkle. He was ready to drop everything his parents had instilled in him, every religious notion and hope for a soulmate to be with him. This should thrill him.

But on the other hand…

_“Soulmates aren’t always the answer.”_

He feels sick to his stomach.


	7. Chapter 7

Lucas has called out of work for the past week and Farkle is beyond worried.

He’s called, he’s texted. He’s even thought about dropping by the college, but he doesn’t know which dorm he’s in or even how to find where it is. So he just… polishes the counter. He has nothing left but that.

* * *

It’s been a week since the drag show. He’s calling all his vacation days. (He doesn’t have that many, considering it’s a part time job at a coffee shop.) Out of desperation, in the middle of the night, he sends an email.

_I need your help. I’m so, so sorry._

He gets an immediate response.

_I’m on the next flight out._

* * *

Smackle pets back his hair, trying to get it out of his eyes. He notes distantly that it’s getting long; not seventh grade bowl cut long, but pretty long. At his feet, Maya paces back and forth. He’s watching her go, she looks furious. “I’ll _kill_ him,” she mutters.

Farkle shakes his head. “Maya, he didn’t even do anything,” he says. “Not as far as we know. He could be really sick.”

Maya growls and Smackle looks down at him in pity. Does he really sound that delusional? Has Lucas really completely abandoned him?

Eventually, he begins to doze off. He stirs when Smackle removes herself out from under him, pillowing his head on the arm of the couch. He hears them talking. “The last time I saw him cry was the night he ran away,” Smackle murmurs. “He’s usually so…”

“Vacant? Intentionally emotionally unavailable? I would be too, if my parents threw me out of the house for being gay and doing drag. He let Lucas into his world and Lucas took an axe to it.” Maya sighs. “I’m going to kill Lucas Friar.”

Before he falls asleep, he hears Smackle reply. “And I’m going to help.”

* * *

He drums his fingers on the surface of the table. The time is ticking by as he waits and waits. Every time the door opens, he throws his head up to look at it. He’s been disappointed every time.

It’s five, ten, fifteen minutes past the time they agreed to meet. He’s beginning to think he’s been left to rot when…

“Lucas.”

He looks up. Riley is as beautiful as the day they first met. Her hair is swept up in a bun, she has on a red dress, and a scarf wrapped around her neck. She smiles, broadly, like he’s never done anything wrong. And he’s done _everything_ wrong.

“Hi,” he says.

She practically runs to the booth and throws herself in across from him. “I am so, so excited you asked me to come,” she says. “I’ve missed you so much since high school. Your parents told me you’d moved out here. I was so curious as to what it was like. Are you living with Zay? Are you doing well in college? What are you majoring in? I - ”

“Riley,” he says, and he can’t help but smile. She’s nervous; she blabbers when she’s nervous. He always found it cute when they were dating, and he’s charmed by it now. “I’m doing great. So is Zay. College is… it’s alright. I’m undecided, but I’m thinking about hospitality management.”

She grins. “That’d be good for you,” she says. “People like you, and you like people.”

It’s the first time he’s told someone about this, and the fact she thinks he’d be good at it makes his heart swell with confidence. “Thanks,” he says. “How are you?” What he means is, _How are you doing without me?_

Immediately, she smiles warmly, and reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her left hand glints in the light and he sees it - an bright diamond ring. “I’m doing okay,” she says. “I’m going to school for journalism.”

“In Texas? How come you never went to New York?”

She swallows. “I haven’t had the time,” she says. “I just… enrolled at college in Texas. We settled down, and then…”

“And then you got engaged,” he supplies.

Her cheeks tint pink. “Yes,” she says. “Charlie proposed at Christmas.”

To his surprise, his insides don’t twist because she and Charlie are engaged. They twist because he didn’t know, and he wasn’t there to congratulate her when it happened. He hasn’t been a very good friend, he supposes. To anyone. “Belated congratulations,” he says. He pauses for a moment as a waitress approaches and takes Riley’s order. The diner has everything on the menu, but Riley just sticks to a grilled cheese sandwich with a side of tater tots. The waitress walks away and he sighs. “Riley, I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head and opens her mouth, but he continues. “No, no, let me say it. I was a terrible, terrible ex-boyfriend. You were trying to reach out and remain friends, I was just being selfish. I missed you and I was taking it out on you. And it was my fault I lost you in the first place.”

Riley smiles gently and shakes her head. “I was ready to give up everything for you, Lucas,” she says. “You were my first love. But I would do that for Charlie, too. I love him more than anything. One day you’ll meet someone like that - someone you would give it all up for.”

He swallows and begins. “Riley… you were ready to spend your life with me, regardless of marks,” he says. “What made you think that you would find something great with Charlie? Even though you knew you could find something great outside of the mark?”

This gives her pause. Eventually, she replies, “There was something in Charlie that just set me free. I feel good when I’m with him. I can be happy, I can be silly. I’m my truest self when I’m with him.” She frowns now. “But I was like that with you too,” she says. “I was in love with you. So I think that maybe your mark doesn’t have to dictate your life - you can find your ‘best’ somewhere else. The mark just indicates the best of the best, you know? But you don’t… need it to be happy?” She smiles again, just slightly, and shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m making much sense. I was happy with you, and now I’m happy with Charlie. I’m happier than I ever thought I could be.” She looks up suddenly and tilts her head. “Why all the questions about soulmates?”

Lucas feels his cheeks heat and ducks his head. “I, uh… I met someone.”

He wasn’t sure what her reaction was going to be, but Riley just grins and says, “Lucas, that’s great! What’s her name?”

He winces. “Um, his… his name is Farkle.”

He looks up to see her blink, her face completely blank. Then she smiles again. “That’s a unique name,” she says. “So… is he your soulmate?”

“That’s kind of the thing,” Lucas says. “We’ve been friends for a while, and I kind of realized that I was falling for him. So I was ready to go headfirst into the whole thing, ignore that we weren’t soulmates and just be with him.”

Riley raises her brows. “What you weren’t ready to do with me?” she asks. He feels his ears burn but he nods. “Sounds like you really love him. So what’s the issue?”

“We’re, uh, soulmates.”

There’s a long pause. It’s so long that in it, the waitress has time to come by, drop off Riley’s food, and get Lucas a refill of his lemonade before it’s over. Then she’s gone and Riley says, “I’m sorry. I thought I asked what the problem was?”

Lucas shakes his head. “He’s different, Riley,” he says. “He’s different than you and I. He hasn’t always been looking for his soulmate - he thinks he’s better off without one. His parents are soulmates and they hate each other, and his pseudo parents aren’t and they’re a great couple. So I don’t know what to do.”

Riley leans forward. “Lucas,” she says, “didn’t you just say that it doesn’t matter if you guys are soulmates? You wanted to be with him that badly, that even if you weren’t soulmates, you thought you could make it work?” Slowly, he nods. “So why can’t you make it work now? If you could have overcome your fears for him, why can’t he put his aside for you?”

Lucas takes a shaky breath. “So you think that I should tell him?” he asks.

Riley reaches out. Her hand, the ring still shining in the sunlight, covers his. “I can’t tell you what to do,” she says. “But I think that if he loves you half as much as you love him, you have a real shot.”

He can only hope she’s right.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s been two and a half weeks since Farkle has last seen Lucas. (Okay, so, two weeks, one day, fourteen hours, ten minutes and about thirty seconds. No one’s counting.) At this point, Maya and Smackle has just left him on the couch to wallow and drown in his own misery. They’re both out, to work and school respectively, and Farkle, thankfully, has off from both. He’s curled up on the couch under thirty blankets (with the air conditioning turned all the way up), watching some kind of news channel, when there’s a knock on the door. “Maya, just call Smackle for your key,” he yells out. There’s another knock. “You know I’m sad and hiding, I’m not getting up to let you in.”

The knocking is persistent. He grumbles and stands, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape as he heads for the door. He flings it open, expecting to say something snarky about Maya’s level of intelligence, when his breath catches in his throat. “Lucas,” he murmurs. The blanket falls to the floor and his heart stops.

Lucas swallows, his mouth set in a straight line. “Are - have you been crying?” he asks. Farkle just looks at him. On the one hand, he can’t believe he’s here. On the other, he’s so angry it hurts him.

“What do you want?” he asks. He’s surprised when his own voice comes out just barely above a whisper.

He watches as Lucas licks his lips. It’s stupid to watch it; he shouldn’t be thinking about kissing Lucas. Lucas hasn’t spoken to him in two weeks. He’s an ass. He’s so handsome. “Can I come in to talk?”

A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Maya’s pushes the next words out of him: “Whatever it is you have to say to me after two weeks of radio silence, you can say it in the hallway.”

Lucas winces but sighs. Then he brings up his hands, puts them on the button of his shorts, and begins to undo them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Farkle asks. He looks up and down the hallway to see if any of their nosy neighbors are out and snooping around. They’re not, so he reaches out and pulls Lucas inside by the wrist.

Once they’re both in, he securely locks the door and turns around. “Can you tell me why you were trying to flash the entire building?” he says.

For a moment, Lucas bites his lip. Then he asks, “Do you trust me?”

A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Smackle’s makes him say: “I shouldn’t.”

“That wasn’t the question,” Lucas challenges.

His own voice: “I’d trust you with anything.”

Lucas nods. Then he reaches for the button of his fly again. He pushes down his shorts, reaches to the leg of his blue underwear, and pulls up.

His mark is staring back at him from Lucas’s hip.

He sucks in a deep breath. Then, almost involuntarily, he wanders forward and crouches down next to Lucas’s thigh. He brings up his hand and runs the pads of his fingers over it: a rainbow-colored moon, crescent and facing upwards on Lucas’s hip. “How long have you known?” he murmurs.

For a moment, he thinks that Lucas hasn’t heard him. He thinks that he doesn’t mind; he’s content to look at the crescent moon all day. “Two weeks,” Lucas says eventually. Farkle pauses and looks up at him, and Lucas just smiles sadly. “You could see your hips in that picture taken of us at the show.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

At first, Lucas says nothing. Then he lands on, “I was afraid.”

Farkle scoffs and stands, going to sit on the couch. “Farkle, you have to get that,” Lucas continues. “You have to understand that.”

“I don’t,” Farkle responds, plainly.

Lucas shakes his head. “Farkle, you don’t care about soulmates,” he says. “You told me that. You thought soulmates were unnecessary.”

Farkle rolls his eyes. “I said that because I liked you,” he explains. Lucas blinks and Farkle takes the quiet as a sign to continue. “You only wanted to date your soulmate. I knew - I thought you weren’t my soulmate. I tried to convince you. It… clearly backfired, because you’re dating Missy.”

Lucas’s hand twitches; Farkle isn’t sure whether he wants to reach out and hold it or punch him. He goes with neither. “But, your parents…”

“My parents were soulmates, yeah. But they’re also awful. They berated me and judged me and told me I was wrong and a mistake. They told me I was worthless, and they wish they had gotten rid of me before I had the chance to ruin their lives.” He watches Lucas flinch with each word, reaching down to scratch at his hip. “Bad people have soulmates - even Hitler had a soulmate. I think their yelling had less to do with them being soulmates and more to do with the fact that they were bad people.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t hate soulmates. They’re not always necessary to be happy - Katy and Shawn are happy. Zay is happy. But I don’t… I wouldn’t have turned you away.”

They’re quiet for a minute, both just looking at each other. Then Lucas clears his throat and reaches down to pull his shorts back up. “I’m not dating Missy,” he murmurs. Farkle just blinks. “At the show that night, I was going to come and tell you everything. I even broke up with Missy. But seeing that moon on your hip… I was so afraid how you would react.”

“Tell me what?” Farkle presses, carefully.

Lucas looks up, having successfully put his pants back on. His eyes look a little misty, but that could be Farkle projecting. “You have a beautiful laugh,” he says. “The pink your cheeks turn when you’re embarrassed is my favorite color. Watching you polish a counter is both hilarious and frustrating. You’re rude, snarky, sarcastic, and dramatic. You’re beautiful, you’re perfect, you look like… an angel.” He takes a deep breath and swallows. “And I’m in love with you.”

The world stops spinning. Here, in the dingy living room of the Minkus-Hart-Smackle residence, Farkle Minkus’s soulmate, Lucas Friar, is standing here and telling him that he is in love with him. It’s everything that Farkle’s ever dreamed of, and everything he’s ever feared all at once.

Every voice, every nerve ending inside of him is singing, and they all have the same message: _Go._

So he does.

He gets up and, in a few short strides, meets Lucas in the middle of the living room. He reaches for him and pulls his mouth down until they meet there. It’s messy; Farkle’s rusty and he’s sure Lucas is too. But it’s a collision of mouths and love and it’s working. Lucas reaches down and pulls until he hoists Farkle up, his legs sliding easily around Lucas’s waist. Every part of him feels like he finally belongs somewhere, with someone.

* * *

In a small bed in a little apartment building in Alameda, California, two boys dose gently.

The first is a broken mess of a boy; his heart has been broken and repatched so many times that it will never be the same shape that it once was. A dress hangs in the middle of his closet, right next to a suit and tie, and he’d be equally happy to wear either. He came from a home where his parents, the people meant to love and protect him no matter what, wish he was never born. So he built his own home; he chose his own family. He made one out of people who he trusted; a blonde girl with anger issues and a brunette with book smarts. And then the second boy.

The second is taller, broader, and a little more put together. He’s loved and lost and loved and lost again. He’s still coming to terms with who he is, and that is okay. Right now, he can put himself together right beside the boy in patches and see where that takes him.

Over time, they both begin to learn one thing: no one could have told them to fall in love. They’re both too stubborn and hardheaded to listen to anyone or anything, anyway - including and especially a mark on their body. They fell in love because they saw what was best and worst and each other and still wanted to be together at the end of the day. Lucas’s father was right about one thing and one thing only: love is pure. There is a sanctity to it. But they chose this and no one else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it!! wow, it's been a journey - for me, anyway. this is probably one of my favorite things i've ever written, especially because i love the idea of farkle in drag. anyway, next soulmate fic should come out soon-ish? i'm excited! thanks for reading, and as always, kudos/comments are appreciated. and come visit me on tumblr @ scisaacs!

**Author's Note:**

> come see me on tumblr at [my main blog](http://scisaacs.tumblr.com) for gmw/other content or my [rpdr blog](http://queenmalanaphy.tumblr.com) for more drag lmao


End file.
